run to you..

http://www.flickr.com/photos/lozingaro/2514610896/

i have to admit, i used the title from this piece of art i saw this morning.. but it got me to thinking. it was pretty weird that i had just finished reading Ecclesiates, and then came across this photo and its caption.

after coming to the end of a very long, trying, and .. maybe even life-altering .. year, i was a little down-hearted and confused. to be honest, i still am in a lot of ways. but the one thing i had been pursuing in my heartaches and headaches and failures remained the same. i was searching for God in all of it. where was He? i just didnt understand how so many things could happen the way they did, that life went on and turned the way it did. i didnt see God's hand in it. He was so far away and out of my picture of life..

when stepping up to a new year with new challenges, and looking over my shoulder at the ones i had faced this last year, i had no idea what i was going to do. i didn't understand where i was, why i was, or even who i was anymore. my beliefs, my values, my thoughts, my ambitions.. they all kind of fell apart around me, falling to the floor in an empty crash. the silence afterward was deafening.. where was God?

and then i was prompted to read my bible, something i hadn't done in a long time. i felt like a fake this semester, opening it when i knew i wasn't ready to hear anything that it said before. oh sure, things had touched my life, verses came to mind, the right answer on the tip of my tongue for anyone needing one or challenging one. but before, there was no connection, something that empty that i hadn't really experienced before, and so i left it alone. but for some reason, i searched the word "wisdom" online and up came Ecclesiates.

and then i started reading chapter 8. this is what it had to say...

1Who is like the wise? And who knows the interpretation of a thing? A man’s wisdom makes his face shine, and the hardness of his face is changed.

well, my face wasn't shining. the hardness was on so thick you couldn't peel it off if you tried. i didnt know what was wrong with me. i always wanted to serve God, wanted to please Him, but for some reason, He was gone. life didn't make any sense - it was so full of things that i couldn't even imagine, and it all went on, people believing what they believed, doing what they were doing, and me thinking i held all the answers but things just didnt all line up. i didnt know squat. i was at a loss.. for words, for answers, for truth.

then i kept reading.. what is wisdom? how do i please God? what can i do to make him happy, to be happy, to be doing right... to share truth?

what i found, i didnt think i was ready for, but it hit me square in the face

17then I saw all the work of God, that man cannot find out the work that is done under the sun. However much man may toil in seeking, he will not find it out. Even though a wise man claims to know, he cannot find it out.

what?? i will never know what God's doing? i will never figure out this life? i thought that's what i needed.. to figure out this life, to figure out my place in it, to do something good, something worthwhile.. something. then i kept reading, intrigued yet slightly depressed at this news.

chap 9

1But all this I laid to heart, examining it all, how the righteous and the wise and their deeds are in the hand of God. Whether it is love or hate, man does not know; both are before him. 2 It is the same for all, since the same event happens to the righteous and the wicked, to the good and the evil

great, its all the same in the end.. we all die. they love, they hate, they die.. so then what? what was Solomon trying to say in all of this?

7Go, eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God has already approved what you do.
8Let your garments be always white. Let not oil be lacking on your head.

Go, enjoy life. God wants you to! was that really the answer? what a thought.

i was so miserable.. i couldn't figure out what was up or down or sideways.. but that really didnt matter.

let your garments always be white.. how beautiful is that? do right in what you enjoy.. whatever your hand finds to do, do it with might! better to be despised and poor and wise, than brash and mighty and foolish. Solomon could hardly hold back his pen at this point it seems. the chapter finishes with all this wise advice.

the culmination of my searching all came down to the last points Solomon had to write in the last chapter, and they set my heart at peace like nothing else could do -

chap 12

1Remember also your Creator in the days of your youth, before the evil days come and the years draw near of which you will say, "I have no pleasure in them"; 2before the sun and the light and the moon and the stars are darkened and the clouds return after the rain..

13The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man.

i dont have to figure it out?? it wont all make sense? i dont have to have all the answers to be successful, to do right, to love people, to make good choices, to make a life? it can still rain and i can still be happy?

I just need to fear God and keep His commandments - that was the truth i had been searching for, and it reached out and found me.

its just so overwhelming to me - the empty clang of the things i tried to understand now washes away in the sound of the flood of comfort God is bringing to my soul and spirit to know that i just have to run to Him.

He will guide my way.. even in the rain.

Is there any constant?

You cannot possibly map out your own life.

Too many twists and turns, switchbacks, sometimes dead-ends.. so much happens and even more changes - then what?
Is there anything left to hold on to? Anything trustworthy in which to rest my soul?

I think the answer is very obvious for a Christian; however, I don't know that it's all that easy. It's not easy to give up things you hold so tightly onto - it's not easy to not know which way to go, which way is right. And it's not easy to give away your control. It requires having to put your trust in something else, something unknown and in a Person unseen.

But that's the beauty of faith - allowing that Someone Else to pattern your life, like clay becomes a vessel in the potter's hand. The clay is nothing but water and dirt without the Potter, but He has a grand design for it - it simply has to rest in His hands and allow the twisting and shaping, though rigid and rough as it may seem. Through this moulding, the clay will one day reflect the mind of the Designer. It doesn't need to worry about how it will turn out, or why it will be shaped the way He wishes - it only needs to accept that the Master knows the end from the beginning and allow Him to work, no matter the outcome.
The Potter's heart is poured into His creation, and He alone knows the best design.

That's something to rest in - that's something constant.

The Journey of a Thousand Miles..

She stepped out of her shoes, one by one, slowly and purposefully.
She let the cool sand envelop her toes as she sank into its soft, welcoming grains.
She looked out to the ocean, as the deep green waves encouraged the sunset to rest upon their glistening backs as they rolled into shore. She closed her eyes and breathed in the warm salt air. It relaxed her, and she opened up her eyes back to the panorama before her. She began walking slowly along the coastline, inviting the breeze to touch her face and tousle her hair. It was quiet here; only a few gulls flew overhead, chattering amongst themselves. And there was the sound of the waves - they beckoned with each bow they took along the beach, bringing the coast to life as they splashed onto the sands, sparkling as the setting sun kissed each drop of water.

With each step, she felt her footprint become a little heavier than the last as the burden of her heart weighed mightily inside her fragile soul. She wanted so desperately to commune with God - maybe here, He was listening.
Alone, on the wave-tossed shores, she began to cry. Maybe this time, she would let Him in.. just maybe.

No magic wand for this Cinderella

She stood again in the middle of that Amazon of grey suits and sharp heels. This time, a smile passed those lips, only quivering to try and conceal the secret she let show with her mouth. As the faces passed her by in the street, her human counterparts, a faint blush crossed her cheeks, embellishing that pale complexion if only for a moment. Her eyes, still wide, sparkled with a pleasant delight that could not be concealed, as could her smile, with the steady of a hand.

The phones were still ringing, the shoes still tapping, and the horns still beeping - this time, however, they did not entice a bedlam of sound in her ears. Instead, it created a beautiful rush of harmony, as the world turned in its glorious mosaic of life. This time, her not-so-perfect toes started drumming thoughtfully in her pair of worn-in sneakers. It was still raining, to be sure, but this time it seemed to fall in a rhythym that strung all the sounds of this scene into a perfect symphony of color and vitality. The smile in the corner of her mouth had not yet faded, but only grew bigger than the ability to conceal it, and she stepped into the rain..

and this time, she was dancing.

Alone

She stood in the middle of her concrete jungle, a gawky tower of pale flesh, mouth quivering, eyes wide. Her hands trembled a little and she unconsciously lifted one hand to her stomach and the other as if to steady her colorless lips from quaking.

There was no comfort in this moment.

She felt abandoned amidst the rush of people, estranged from her culture of cacophony; there were no friends here, only mankind churning through each other, shoes tapping the sidewalks, phones disturbing women's purses, horns beeping their own distainful tune.

She began to nibble on her left thumbnail, and her perfectly manicured toes shifted uncomfortably in her too-tight black heels. No matter how hard she tried, with her hair meticulously in place, her blush obsessively swept over her cheek, her shirt pressed three times for good measure - no matter how much she wanted to belong, to walk next to these human partners in society with that confidence she saw in seemingly every other face - no matter any of that, she could not feel what she wanted so desperately to feel; she just wanted to feel okay. She wanted to feel human, a part of her race, and not simply pressed over and over by its throngs.

Mustering all the strength she had left in her small, still-trembling hands, she opened her umbrella, and stepped out into the rain..

Shallow Pools and Oceans Vast..

Where do I wade in? Gotta collect my thoughts more..

Love hurts

I wrote you a poem -
But I threw it away..

the things in my mind
can't find the words to say.

this pen scratches the paper
and i struggle to find
the things i want to say
but they all run and hide.

I stand in the cold, so dismal and grey
the city lights shine
but my heart seems to fade..

Fades into the hurt, to embrace the cold;
My tears turn to frost and i feel so alone.

Maybe one day we'll talk and I'll bring out the poem
The poem I threw away
And then you'll come home.


To my brother - hope he'll never see it.

Sarah Lewis