Some days, I want to step into my home and for life to be easy. I want a dog to play with and cuddle with and a large bookshelf set up in the corner, I want a cabinet full of tea and coffee, and roommates who never irk one another with their silly habits - or perhaps, a husband as a roomate. One who is tall and broad, a powerful and commanding man of God, but who is sensitive and enjoys my chick flicks and thinks my Ben & Jerry's addiction is "cute" or "sweet". I want perfect weather all year, and to be able to go hiking whenever I want. I want to have the kind of time that allows me to have two or three hours in the Word every day, and then hours more pouring into those around me. I want big windows, and only one job. I want to have the motivation I need, to be joyfully immersed in what I do, to be able to pour into children and young men and women, to instill the Gospel in them. I want to be able to throw dinner parties with dear friends, and to do spontaneous things like take a glass-blowing class or decide that it's a great day for outdoor portraiture on the mall, because I can.
And I wonder when my life will look like this. After school? After I get settled in a "real" job? After I am retired?
*****
And then I step back and I realize - never. Never will my life look like that. My life will probably always be fraying around the edges. There will probably always be laundry on the floor, kitchens to be swept, and work to be done. There will always be moments of frustration, of exhaustion, and of sadness. I will never have an apartment that is big "enough" (at least not in this city), and I will never be put together. I will never have that much free time, I will probably never not have a job, and I will probably always be a little bit tired.
I am a mess. I will probably always be a mess.
But I am, and will be, a holy mess. It is the moments when I stay up all night working on a paper, and then look out the window to see the glorious sunrise, painted by my Creator. It is the moments when, although I am exhausted, someone still asks me about Jesus, and I am renewed. When I get to carry a tired, frightened little girl up the stairs when I, too, am tired and frightened and she whispers in my ear, "don't put me down!" and I snuggle her closer and we are both reassured. When that same little girl says to prayer requests, "I'll pray. I want to pray for that!" with an enthusiasm that makes my heart leap with joy, and restores in me the sense of peace I lacked. When I get to watch my dearest friends and sisters have victories, both small and large. When I can set aside my pain to celebrate with them, when they reciprocate, and when we can celebrate together, each of our victories. The moment when I am crushed in humility by a sister's teaching, and restored by their fellowship and undying love.
Those moments are all the more precious because of my chaos.
In the midst of my chaos, I want it to disappear. The stormy seas, I want them to go away, to magically be smooth and simple. Because life would be so much easier if it were smooth sailing the whole way. And easy equals happy, right?
But it would be too easy. It would be worthless. And un-holy. Without having to wrestle, what is life purposed for? Comfort? God does not call us to comfort. God calls us to HIM.
And after the storm is over, I have always - ALWAYS - been able to look back, and say that I am thankful for it. God has always been faithful. And he will always be faithful. And I will always be dependent.
I can trust in my God. Some days I know this with all my heart. Some days I know this in my head. Some days I question.
I pray that I have the faith of Paul, that someday I will look around in the midst of a storm and say,
"Take heart, for the God to whom I belong and whom I worship has promised his protection! He has promised his never-ending grace! Take heart, friend."
For it will be exactly as it was told. (Acts 27:22-25, my paraphrase).
My God, the creator of the universe. He is worthy of trust.
What a beautiful thing, that I am not dependent on myself, but on Him who can do all things, and in whom all things hold together.
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