looking through me

Category: Uncategorized

March 4, 2016

reservoir of beauty

A blend of highlighters and jewel-toned markers swirled across the clouds. I soaked in the brilliance and secreted it away in my reservoir of beauty. It’s the place I dip into when I feel pressed too hard, when life is loud and frenzied, when my mind refuses to settle. I draw on memories of beauty to calm me and to renew my energy.

But as I studied the sunrise I realized the ones I love best occur not in stillness but in tumult. When the sky is filled with the turbulent jumble of moisture and dust particles and atmospheric debris, that’s when clouds appear. That’s the backdrop on which glory paints.

The stunning colors can’t occur without the chaos. Were the sky unblemished, I wouldn’t notice the sunrise at all. The heavens would lighten without a riot of color. The ethereal interlopers and impurities become the canvases absorbing and refracting the light that stills my soul.

Emptiness has limited capacity for beauty. I need margin and rest and some control over the calendar of expectations. Yet it’s in the crowded spaces of competing inputs, in the chaos—it’s in community—that I find so many of the soul-sustaining hues staining life with grace. My reserves are filled in solitude, but so too are they replenished in the tangle of relationship as we absorb, reflect and refract Light together.

It dawns on me how deep and wide and varied are the sources filling my well of beauty. And the realization casts new light on the day.

 

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February 23, 2016

confession

I shifted in my seat and folded my hands to keep my fingers from fidgeting. The tension of waiting gnawed on my nerves.

Suddenly I felt the presence of someone slide into the seat to my right. A soft introduction cued me to begin speaking.

“Well, it’s been seven years—” I tried to sense a reaction before plowing ahead, “—I know I’m way over-due, but, um, I’m here today because . . .”

I spilled my story. I owned my actions and braced for the consequences. I submitted to the prodding—this is what I came for—as I waited for the pronouncement.

After some quiet contemplation, I received the verdict: “No cavities. Your teeth are in really good shape for it being so long since you’ve seen a dentist—hardly any buildup. Now let’s look at that chipped tooth.”

My shoulders slumped in relief. The fix for the tooth and subsequent cleaning flew by. I barely noticed the poking and scraping. I was practically giddy knowing my years of dental inattention didn’t cause any long-term effects.

As I got out of the chair I realized the weight of guilt I’d been carrying as I pretended I had everything under control. I waited seven years. I waited until I was broken.

And I do the same thing with God.

I try to do better on my own. I wait until I’m damaged beyond what I can repair. I squirm in His presence because I know exactly how long it’s been and what I’ve done.

Yet when I confess, He scrubs me clean and smooths the rough edges. He points out the tender places and weak spots we need to keep an eye on together. I have ongoing responsibilities. But He never gives me what I deserve.

Textbook mercy. And I know it.

 

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