I have to admit…
It’s odd coming at a problem from the side
Rather than front or back,
But perspective, it turns out,
Needs changing from time to time and
Cardboard walls need tearing down,
Or punching out as the case may be,
Because obscured vision kills hope
Faster than you can say, “Help!”

Look around again.
Get out of mental ruts and
Make a new path in the wilderness.
Fill up the valleys! Flatten the hills!
Reshape everything in your thought life
Until the idea makes some sense
Or a way around the problem is found.
Resolution does not always come easily,
But it does come—sometimes in “impossible” ways.
With persistent pursuit of improvement,
Vision expands exponentially!

I want fervor! I want zeal! Life seems so doggone overwhelming and I feel like if I could just have Holy Spirit energy, I’d be able to wade through the muck like it was clear water. I need His Word to enervate me again, so that when I read, I receive real life rather than some insipid sameness. So, I am reading again. I never really stopped, but I haven’t really focused on seeking Him in the text either. I looked for something I could use rather than something I could metabolize into my spirit-man. Sometimes it seemed like all I was doing was looking for something to give someone else and the essence of what it said passed right over me, slipped right through my fingers like sand.

The Word…His Word…Living Words of Life…I need so desperately. I’m tired of songs that say how desperate we are for God or how passionate we feel towards God when they’ve all faded into daily background music courtesy of radio. Some song that meant something when it was written has become a distant, faded work of art that’s been exposed to sunlight too long. The vivacity has faded to washed-out colors and sounds—or as Dave Grohl sings on the Foo Fighters’ song “Come Alive”…”every sound monotone, every color monochrome, life began to fade into the black…”

Scripture has its own rhythm and rolls to a different kind of music than we are used to in our pop culture. There are no verses or choruses or bridges—just a recitative with a swelling and fading choral background and orchestral accompaniment that accents or detracts from the vocals as the conductor chooses. The words clarify the intent of the composer. The underlying unheard music carries His heart. I want to know both the intent and the heart! I can no longer search the holy word only for others when I need His Bread of Life and Living Water for myself as well. Frankly, I just need His LIFE living in me, through me, for me.

The problem is that I’m so used to just living my life myself. I get myself out of bed, dressed for work, and to work. Then the day drags on, and finally lunch comes, and then finally, finally 5:00 is here and I can go home to the mundane chores and duties that await me…that overwhelm me by their very magnitude. I have so much stuff and nowhere to put it all! So I wade through the lesser tasks like dishes and laundry, help my husband with the checkbook sometimes, and procrastinate on anything I can. Where’s the LIFE in that? I go to bed wondering where the day went and where was God in my day. I can think of moments here and there, conversations that occur, and thoughts floating through my brain, but no consistent awareness of His presence.

Ah, Lord, I feel like Paul in Romans 7 where my bodily person fights against my spirit person. Save me, dear Jesus, from myself and set my heart ablaze for You once more.

Friends are well-meaning, caring, and kind in their own ways.
Trouble is…their ways aren’t always my ways and vice versa.

The expectations feel so high sometimes
I go sliding right down to the bottom of my toes,
Wondering if I’ll be able to pick myself up again.
I mean, I can’t stand uncertainty.
Worse…I can’t stand outright animosity!
Today I was wondering where all the boundaries went…
The ones that say, “this close, but no closer, please.”
Her undercurrent of anger went all over me like glitter on glue
And I dissolved with this uncomfortable familiarity—
Feeling like I’d been chewed up and spit out.
Shaking and crying are not my favorite way to deal…

Somehow, I let her feelings matter more than mine
And I felt so very, very small.
I am who I am, and I thought she knew me—
At least better than her words told me she did.
Obviously, she doesn’t, and that hurts
More than all the anger did.
I know. I know.
What person knows everything about another?
Still, when it comes to this one issue…
Years down the road, she doesn’t know me in this?
I must have been fooling myself all this time.

This interchange was not between friends,
Not today anyway.
This conversation was between two strangers.
The failure at understanding was mutual.
Maybe some time when she feels like calling
At some unspecified future point…
Maybe we will be old friends meeting again.
Today’s exchange will slink into the background,
Smoothed over and ignored in an effort to reconnect.
Or maybe this time, on top of the other times that
Were “smoothed over and ignored” will become
The crooked piece of track that derails us.
I rather hope not, though.
Perhaps we can talk this one out and
Come to understand each other better…
As friends do.

My story unfolds itself into a comfortable couch.
Here I lie, feet up and reclined, listening
To the relaxed rumble of coherence turning
Chaos into logic, making sense out of nonsense.
Peace by pieces is settling inside me
Filling my soul with reminders of His goodness.

His Eye Is On The Sparrow