The Longing

The wake of someone else's tragedy has taken me back. In light of a familiar pain, my heart feels the loss, the amputation throbs yet again. 

Not as severely, not as overwhelming, but the sadness enters the hallways of my heart. 

And my heart bleeds for the friend who is walking the road of grief I have come to know all to well.

The beautiful longing enters in.

The longing arises out of the ashes that death leaves behind. 

It plants these simple seeds of faith.

Not just for the one I lost. But for what that loss birthed in me. 

It plants within us a desire to have things be the way they were before. They make us desire a better time, a better place.

It makes me long for my heavenly home. Not just because my mom will be there, but because it is this fantasy-like place where there will be no more tears or sorrows. No more fear or pain. This place that seems to be reality in the fairy-tales we watched as a child. This pure, unadultered, unstained place that draws our heart from the place it is now.

I want that place. I want that place where I can walk down streets of gold with only pure joy in my eyes and laughter in my heart, holding hands with Jesus, forever worshipping His greatness, forever communing with Jesus, the one Whom my soul loves.

  And that is what stirs a hope within me. That is what grows and cultivates my longing. 

Paul again so beautifully captures the longing in my favorite book of the bible, 2 corinthians. 

For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God,  a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling...for while we are still in this tent we groan, being burdened-not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothes, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.   

 

How I relate to Paul. How I long for heaven on days when I am reminded of the pain. How I long for heaven for my friend who must walk this long and hard journey. 

How I yearn. 

Oh how I desire that beautiful place when sin is no longer a struggle, where death no longer sinks his vicious teeth into the flesh of those I love, where tears no longer burn down my cheeks mourning things I cannot understand. I want that place when I fully experience life abundantly. 
Oh how I want to be there.

But God gives us these stunning words in Revelation. These words of eternal hope and deep comfort.
Jesus whispers them softly to my heart on these days.
"Behold," His gentle words soothe my aching heart, "behold, I am making all things new."
"Behold. I am coming soon."

Those words are the reason for my joy. They are the very reason the bondage of this life has broken away from me. They are the very reason that this light and momentary affliction is nothing in comparison to Jesus. He Himself is the reason why I have taken my eyes off of this world that is growing strangely dim, in light of who He is.
Yes, we hurt. Yes, the Enemy is still out to steal, kill and destroy. But juxtaposed to the Life that He has brought me, I do not lose heart.
Because He is working an eternal weight of glory within me that is impossible to be compared to this affliction I now feel.

This place is filled with longing but it is the perfect place to know Jesus more. I press more into Him, I lean more fully on Him, I worship Him more honestly.
Therefore I cannot lose heart, because I have this treasure that the Lord is holding me. That He is working this out for my good. I have this promise that He is good. He is faithful. My pain will not be meaningless.

 

 

Learning to Thrive

Can you feel it? The dead of Creation is just pulling towards Hope. Can you hear it? The birds have begun to sing, expecting this to be a day when spring will arrive again. The temperature gives into the sun as it rises above freezing, feeling almost warm. The earth is ready. Can you feel it?

I think I'm learning to thrive.
I am exactly where I need to be.
I am experiencing the joy of obedience.
Because I finally have eyes to see. I can finally see Jesus in the coffee shops and letters. In the cold and in the warmth. In music and in late night chats with friends. In joy and in laughter. In the yearning and in the satisfaction. In the snow on my car and the red lights.
I can finally see Jesus in this winter place.
There may still be six more weeks until Spring, but I can finally believe that there is a reason for my Hope. Winter will end. Life will rise again. Hope does not disappoint. (Rom 5:5)
I am learning to thrive.
I cannot put into words the joy that is bubbling inside my heart. Because I know I am where I am for a reason. I know I am sitting here in the coffee shop typing blogs and writing a book and listening to music and reading letters for a reason. I know that I am here in Lancaster, nannying, loving, learning, living the mundane for a reason.  I know that God is for me and is making a way for me. I know Him.
I can hear Him whispering to me, "Holy and Dearly loved." Voicing my identity to me over and over again. I know.
And within that, I am learning to thrive, because it is from Jesus that my identity arises. It is the fact that my life is hidden deep within Jesus that I can thrive in the death of this winter.
I wait expectantly for that first flower to shoot up from the ground underneath the tree in my front yard. That first purple flower that arises every year. I wait in anticipation to bury my toes in the thawed earth and soft green grass. I wait because blessed are those who wait for Him. A smile is on my face as I watch the cars drive by and lights revert from red to green. The joy is here because Jesus is. I can see Him.
The winter is no longer killing me, the winter is making me come alive.