Storms...

It has been an interesting season. I'm really not sure how I would classify it, but I see growth and change. So, maybe this is finally the hope-filled spring that I've been long awaiting. 

Those of you who follow me know that this new year brought a longing to be quiet and still. Such things are not innate to me; they are challenging. Interestingly enough, I was sick from the end of December through Mid-January. I literally worked and only took care of the things that had to be done. Otherwise, I was resting. I would spend my weekends at home, drinking hot tea, and gearing up for the coming week. This was completely atypical for me. Usually my weekends had very little down time. Guess what? I am feeling better, but I am still enjoying quiet time at home. I see the benefits of this time. Time to not be hurried. Time for reflection. Time for quiet. Time for renewal. Time for Sabbath rest. 

Today's reflection: 

I heard the rain off and on during the middle of the night. I awoke to cloudy skies. Once again I thought of the clouds that had been part of a long, harsh winter in my own life. But, moreover, I thought about the purpose of the clouds that come in our lives. If we say that God is sovereign, then nothing that we go through is unknown to Him. I believe part of our suffering comes simply because we live in a broken world, but I also believe other trials are a testing of our faith (James 1). It is easy, isn't it, when skies shine bright and blue to have unwavering faith? What does faith look like when a storm approaches though? How does it change when a torrential downpour hits suddenly? 

I ran across this quote today: "Until we can come face to face with the deepest, darkest fact of life without damaging our view of God’s character, we do not yet know Him." ~ Oswald Chambers

Looking back at the most recent series of storms in my life, I would have to honestly say I wish I had a better faith response. But, there is also the learning part, right? We journey through to the other side of the storms, seeing God at work in their midst, and knowing that the next time we hopefully remember. Each time we will know Him more. And I want to know Him more. 

In closing, I am leaving you with something I wrote in September 2010. It seemed appropriate. 

He Who Paints the Skies

Hot air, heavy with moisture, weighted lungs respond without thinking.

Breathe, but don't think.

Gray scale landscape shaded to match the outlook. But what of the Matchless One?

What of He who paints the skies and gives heavy air chance to cry?

What of heaven that responds with peals of thunder and illuminating flashes and Creator's glory?

Eyes to see beyond the here and now, beyond the pain, beyond one soul.

Thunder-boom and shake up, begin anew. Cleanse, drop by drop.

Look up and see skies that sing (even as they cry); Clouds that dance (even as the bright sun burns deep).

Hues that seem too perfect for our brokenness swirl above and He makes the sun to set low, bow before Him.

And breathe in, knowing there is more, knowing there is love from He who paints the skies.