there is sometimes a claustrophobic bubble of tense smallness in my chest; i am particularly aware of its presence when the pace of the last few years of my life leaves me little room to sit back and pause to catch my breath. in that awful smallness i am aware of how fragile and fleeting the present is. i am also aware of how fixed the past is and how intenable and inscrutable the future is as it stalwartly frustrates all my feverish attempts to pry security to cling onto. my small hands cannot reach back and fiddle with the past; my small hands are too small to carry the weight of the present; my small hands cannot reach into the dark of the future to get any answers.
it is in this visceral "fear of smallness" and lack of control and direction that i find that i must direct my thoughts to the only Person worthy of my attention, energy, and hope. in this buzzing fear i am also aware of a God who holds my whole life in his hands: his presence was threaded through the fabric of my past, is a working force in my present regardless of the level of my awareness, and is promised reassurance for all of my future. i don't have to change the past because he has written it that way; i don't have to carry the present because he holds it for me, and i don't have to foresee the future because he will orchestrate it. as i meditate upon his worthiness of my trust, my emotions will align with the steadying nature of this truth. this, i suppose, is what it means to have peace like a river. give me battered and bruised and ugly knees as i use the transformative power of conversation with my Father to turn that claustrophobic bubble into a house of refuge and sanctuary. it is his presence in this bubble that transforms it. with him as the object of my faith i may content myself with being small in this moving river because he is my peace. whom shall i fear?
it is in this visceral "fear of smallness" and lack of control and direction that i find that i must direct my thoughts to the only Person worthy of my attention, energy, and hope. in this buzzing fear i am also aware of a God who holds my whole life in his hands: his presence was threaded through the fabric of my past, is a working force in my present regardless of the level of my awareness, and is promised reassurance for all of my future. i don't have to change the past because he has written it that way; i don't have to carry the present because he holds it for me, and i don't have to foresee the future because he will orchestrate it. as i meditate upon his worthiness of my trust, my emotions will align with the steadying nature of this truth. this, i suppose, is what it means to have peace like a river. give me battered and bruised and ugly knees as i use the transformative power of conversation with my Father to turn that claustrophobic bubble into a house of refuge and sanctuary. it is his presence in this bubble that transforms it. with him as the object of my faith i may content myself with being small in this moving river because he is my peace. whom shall i fear?
sidenotes;
this weekend was a place of reassurance and refuge and rest. praise bubbles up from the depths of my heart when i think about the way i am able to encounter God through the people who share the same King in their hearts.
also i am very loved :) hehe