Monday, December 3, 2012

My Story

"Repetitive patterns have become themes in our lives over time, themes that impose structure on us even when a surface evaluation would tell us that these themes are nothing more than personal preference or desire.  We are not wholly our own, we are exclusively the result of what has happened to us.  No wonder reading the plot of our lives is so difficult."  - Dan Allender, To Be Told

Just as soon as I've begun to think that I have a handle on the story of my life, some sort of banner gets jammed in the wheel of my understanding.  I think I have forgiven, only to have something send me off into worlds of bitterness and rage.  I think I know love, only to find that I need so much more than I can give.  I think that I know healing, only to run towards all the wrong sorts of medication.

I have a God who knows all the ins and outs of my story not only because he wrote it, but because he loves it.  My story is so very precious to him.  Now I'm not saying he loves the tragedy both that I've suffered and committed, but he is not only interested in my story, he loves it.

This is a start.  As a Christian, I am in the really unique and weird position of knowing the one who's written and continues to write my life.  I don't know what tragedies or joys are around the bend, I don't even know what I have experienced all that well, but I can rest in the knowledge that the resolution, the climax, the ending will be glorious.

I was thinking about this last night as I sat with our small core church-planting group.  We were talking about hope - "the ernest expectation of things to come."  We were talking about longing.  And we were looking at the painting I've pictured above, "Lift up Thine Eyes."

As we were talking and sitting in silence as well, I was wondering, "What if my deepest hope and longing is true?"  What if all that I most sincerely hope for in the dark will one day explode into the light and color of reality.  What will it feel like to have my heavenly father's kiss, to hear his tender words and to finally, beyond any of the shadows, know that all will not only be well but will be beyond what I've even dared to dream.

My dreams are too small for a God like this.  A God who indeed is working all things for good, not just for the elect but for all creation.  He knows that my eyes are half-shut to his realities.  He knows the internal wounds that bleed and the ways in which I interact with the world simply out of these wounds.

And the great thing is, the fantastic thing, the thing that makes my heart race, is that this is not the end.  In the gospel it will never be the end.  And when it is we will all say "Amen."  Truly.  And just at it was at the beginning, it will be very good.