looking through me

Tag: perception

September 20, 2016

inexhaustible

As my thoughts wander through concerns and unknowns—as I pray for people I love and people I don’t even know—I slump under the weight of weariness.

There’s so much to worry about, to be discouraged by or overwhelmed with in this troubled world. Yet in the midst of my woefulness, hope whispers into the bleakness:

God never wearies.
God never worries.
God is inexhaustible.

It stops me in my mental tracks. God can never be exhausted—neither used up nor worn out. What rests heavily on my heart does not tire Him, does not cause Him to fret, does not fatigue His sovereignty. That’s not to say He is unmoved by it. He cares more deeply than I do, but He is not anxious about it. He is not limited by it.

He is strong enough, gracious enough, loving enough, just enough to carry me through this without being depleted of an ounce of His God-ness.

I look again at what troubles me and I am awestruck—He is not wearied by my questions and not worried by my what ifs. His peace is bigger than my fear.

I will never wear out or reach the end of His love for me. He was and is and always will be utterly inexhaustible.

 

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September 12, 2016

fifteen years

A glint in the sky catches my eye. I track it as it makes a long arcing turn and prepares for its final descent.

Fifteen years ago the skies were empty. Fifteen years ago the whole country was grounded though the foundation had been ripped from beneath our feet.

Fifteen years ago my eyes scanned the plane-less sky and struggled to understand how quickly life had changed. Today planes are in the sky, but I feel the same restless bewilderment.

A bag of groceries sits on the seat beside me as I drive. Feeding those I love lets me feel useful in my helplessness. I watch the plane until it dips out of sight. I pull into the driveway and unload the groceries. I head to the kitchen to chop and mix, to sauté, to layer and bake.

Fifteen years ago everything changed . . . and nothing changed. Fifteen years ago we recoiled at humanity’s hatred, but the venom burns through us as hotly as ever.

We forget because it hurts to remember. We remember because it hurts to forget.

Fifteen years. And counting.

 

 

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