Amy's Oasis

I have a (childish?) fascination with snowflakes.  I love watching them as they fall swollenly in the gray of a winter day.  I love watching them dance and sparkle in the sun.  Most of all, I love examining them individually, each one different, and each one a miriacle. 

   The other day I was watching them fall onto my coat and was suddenly overwhelmed with the wonder of our God.  Each snowflake that fell was more beautiful than anything that hangs in an art museum, and each one was such a part of our mundane little lives that we hardly notice them anymore.  I imagined God, fashioning each one with His fingers, a mind so rapid and imaginitive that millions apon millions could fall in a second of time - the same second that He is doing all the other things that hold this world in place.  Suddenly I was sad that such a beautiful thing was melting . . . that each one would eventually change shape and form.  Then it dawned on me - changing shape was not necessarily destruction.  It was simply turning into another miriacle - a water droplet.

  And really - why aren't we more amazed? Why aren't we moved to trust Him? We have a God who not only orchestrates the whirlwind, but who perfectly directs every dust particle that moves in the air.  Who not only moves every tidal wave, but who commands even the drops of water that spray as waves both small and big crash together.  Who not only knits a tiny baby together, but who wraps himself in the same skin to become the only man with the power to carry the weight of the sin of the world. 

If you think about it, every miriacle really points to that one.  Because it is the small things that are sometimes really the biggest - more than we will ever know.

A few minutes ago I looked in the mirror on my way to 1) the computer and 2) bed.  Everything about the way I look and feel right now has a story to tell about my life.  My oversized t-shirt, which happens to be my dad's Camp Tamarack 2004 t-shirt that I stole before I left. (I love (& miss) my dad . . . my family.)  The fact that it isn't washed.  (I'm too busy to do laundry. :P)  The washable marker stains adorning not one, but both of my arms.  (The masterpieces of two very busy and precious tots.) The tender spots on my face where Hendrick whacked a very hard tiger against it. (To get me to laugh and make funny faces, don't worry. :)) My sore shoulder muscles. (From hanging on for dear life on a tube on Saturday.) My sunburnt face. (From hanging out at the beach on the weekend and at the park today.)  The dry, rubbed skin on my nose where I have been blowing my nose for a very long time.  (My body's decided to do a spring cleaning on the dead cells hanging around.) The sparkle in my eye. (Which apparently tells the world that a certain special someone is never very far from my mind.)

My warmed heart, which speaks of a life full to overflowing with all the rich and fulfilling things that bring God glory and man happiness.

I am done.  I am done.  I am done school. So hard to believe!

Why is it that I feel more incompetent then when I started and so much more aware that there is nothing that I can do to benefit the human race or the God who created and sustains me?  Hmm . . . methinks that is just where said God wants me. :)

So, you can officially come to me with your problems now. ;P I don't feel like I can help you, but I know God can!   

In the course of the next couple days, I will be packing all my earthly goods, saying goodbye to my friends, and saying hello to boyfriend, family, and Prince Edward Island!!!!!!!  So incredibly excited.  Why is it that God gives us this much joy while still on this earth?

I wonder what it would be like to see clearly, to have the scales peeled from my eyes and to see Jesus face to face . . . and in the next glance I have to praise Him for relentlessly tearing them from my hands that press them so tightly against my face. And I remember that the "would" is a "will" and that "will" will become "is" and I will no longer be afraid of His gaze.

I wonder what it would be like to hear clearly, to have His words to me truly be heard in every part of my being, what it would be like to resonate and vibrate with a perfect tuning to His music . . . and in the next note I have to praise Him for the fragmented harmonies that I am already able to hear with a growing volume, dispite the fingers wedged tightly in my ears. And I remember that the "would" is a "will" and that "will" will become "is" and I will no longer be afraid of His voice, His words to me.

I wonder what it would be like to smell the perfect fragrance of Him, of His offering, the incense that is a sweet-smelling aroma to the Father's nostrils, the offering that we pour at His feet; to truly breathe with healthy lungs the pure air, the life-giving breath of life . . . and in the next breath I have to praise Him for the permeating fragrance that comes my way, for the persistent breath of life that He has not stopped breathing into His Image-bearers from the very dawn of time, dispite my refusal to fill my lungs with His goodness. And I remember that the "would" is a "will" and that "will" will become "is" and I will no longer be afraid of His breath, His fragrance.

I wonder what it would be like to truly "taste and see that the Lord is good", to hunger after Him and be satisfied by Him, to truly be brought to His banqueting table, where His banner over me is love . . . and in the next pang I have to praise Him for nourishing me, for giving me the Bread of Life and the Living Water, dispite my stubborn refusal to open my mouth. And I remember that the "would" is a "will" and that "will" will become "is" and I will no longer be afraid of His hunger and satisfaction.

I wonder what it would be like to truly feel His healing touch, to touch Him, to reach out and feel the hem of His garment, the holes in His hands, the wounds of His feet, to pour out my offerings and tears on His feet, to wash His feet and be washed by Him . . . and in the next touch I have to praise Him for already beginning His work of healing, for touching my heart and upholding it and making it new, for inviting my touch, delighting in my service to Him - all dispite my tightly curled and clenched fists. And I remember that the "would" is a "will" and that "will" will become "is" and I will no longer be afraid of His hands and touch.

I wonder what it would be like . . . and then I remember that the "would" is already an "is" in one sense, and that the "would" in its fullest sense is a "will" and that "will" will become "is" . . .

And then I will no longer be afraid.

When I think of that, the "will" becomes "am".

April showers bring May flowers.

I think I like what they say.

Freedom. What do you think of when you hear that word? Is it being able to do what you want, go where your impulses carry you? Maybe not, in your head. Probably, whether you realize it or not, in your actions. Is it being the person you want to be, the control over your own destiny? Maybe not, in your head. Probably, whether you realize it or not, in your actions.

 

"I, even I, am He who comforts you.

Who are you that you should be afraid

Of a man who will die,

And of the son of a man who will be made like grass?

And you forget the LORD your Maker,

Who stretched out the heavens

And laid the foundations of the earth . . .

But I am the LORD your God,

Who divided the sea whose waves roared -

The LORD of hosts is His name.

And I have put my words in your mouth;

I have covered you with the shadow of my hand,

That I may plant the heavens,

Lay the foundations of the earth, 

And say to Zion,

'You are my people.'"

Is. 51:12-13a; 16 

There is something about being on a plane . . . as the aircraft lifts off the ground and the landscape falls away beneath you, you cannot help but realize just how small we are.  I remember feeling that I could just reach down my hand and crunch the buildings and trees with one press against the rounded earth.  I had to strain my eyes to see the tiny man jogging around the track.  Soon he dissapeared completely as we gained altitude.  Houses and roads laid out perfectly beneath me.  No dirt.  No rust.  No brokenness.  No destruction. 

At the dawn of time, God was.  He was the one who existed complete in Himself, and yet he chose to create a universe. A galaxy.  Some planets within the galaxy.  Earth among the planets.  Continents on the earth.  A country on one of those continents.  A garden within that country.  Particles of dirt in that garden.  A man, made of the dirt.  On that man, the tiny man, the man barely seen from an ascending aircraft, the man made of dirt, God chose to set His love, to bear His Image! More than that, dispite sin and even through sin, God has put His words in our mouth and covered us with His hand of blessing and love!  What?!

 Do we believe in God? More than that do we believe in GOD-prime - GOD-to-the-infinity?  If we did, fear would be gone.  Fear of other people, of what they will think of us, of what they could do to us, of what they have done to us, of how they are responding to us, and all the other multiple ways in which we make others bigger than ourselves and bigger than God.  Fear of ourselves, of how much we sin, of what we will do, of what we will not do, of how weak we are, of how strong we are, and all the other multiple ways we make ourselves bigger than other people and bigger than God.  Not only would fear be gone, but so would guilt, so would pride, so, I suppose, would sin.  Do we believe in GOD?

Of ourselves . . . No.  But no matter whether we believe in Him in the totallity of His essence and in the totallity of our hearts and actions, GOD STILL IS.  The faithful though we are faithless. The strong though we are weak.  The big though we are small.  He IS, even though we do not believe in Him.  And because He is, we can begin to catch glimpses of Him, to take small steps, to gain a small taste of what it is to believe in and fully trust our truly great and awesome God.  It is not about our believing - it is about Him BEING.

Stand in awe.  Worship. Wonder.  And . . . do not fear.  Our God IS. 

"For lo, the winter is past,

The rain is over and gone.  

The flowers appear on the earth;

The time of singing has come,

And the voice of the turtledove

Is heard in our land."  S of S:11-12

They say Philadelphia is beautiful in the springtime.  As I walked to the train station today, I began to see what "they" meant.  The flowering trees are already beginning to bloom, and daffodils & crocuses are everywhere.  Not to mention the birds . . . I love springtime!

I also made a "surprise" visit home this weekend . . . thanks to a wonderful boyfriend and his spur-of-the-moment wonderful dreams. :)  It was so good to see everyone again ("S-E-E" as Steve's mom said . . .).  Good times at the park with my ecsatic siblings, a surprise double date with Matt and Chrissy, and then crashing Carol-Lee's party.  Not to mention saying a quick goodbye to my lovely friend Sarah who will be in Africa for a year, worshipping in Steve's church (hearing my dad's preaching and Lou's piano playing again!!) and relaxing with Steve's family and my family @ his house.  And to top it all off, staying over @ Ruth and Matt's. Let's just say it was a great time . . . and this morning's plane ride feels like it happened a decade ago.  

I finished off a class today.  It was such a bitter-sweet ending.  Lots of tears and encouragement and goodbyes.  Hearing stories of how God worked in these womens' lives and telling my own story, and then praying for such a long time together was so beautiful - such a reminder of the awesome greatness of our God, His love and the wonderful fellowship of the saints.  

I cannot wait for eternal spring . . . 

I am about 3/4 of the way done my school year.  Two more months to go.  I can't decide whether that's happy or sad.

Does life always produce these kinds of mixed emotions? 

I think so.  It's the already-not-yet, right?  This place is not our home, and yet God has given it to us to dwell here for a season.  As Christians, don't you think we should always be living between contentment and longing?

Isn't it funny how the older we get, the more we worry?  Ironic, because the older we grow, the more experiences we've had with the faithfulness of our God.

Isn't it funny how the more things and people we love, the more we have anxiety?  Ironic, because the more we love, the more we have experienced the love of God.

Isn't it funny how the farther along we get in life, the more we want to control?  Ironic, because the farther along life's pathway we travel, the more we are forced to realize that there is only one who is fully capable of controlling this world.

Why is it that we as human beings always manage to slowly close our hands over those things and people that we most love?  Why is it that we are afraid of simply lying prostrate before a God who has created and ordered this world, the author who is writing our stories?  Why is it that we pray for situations and people and things often as just another way to gain control over our worlds as opposed to opening our hands before a God who is fully in control?

As Ed Welch asked my class: Are we afraid that God might be stingy with us, as we ourselves are?  Is is simply our last grasp at being gracious gods in our own worlds?

Hard questions - but ones we need to ask.

I heard a quote the other day (again in class) that has stuck with me.  It went something like this: "Freedom is just another word for having nothing left to lose."  Does that mean giving up love and everything that is important to us, just to be free?  Yes, absolutely.  It means giving it all over to the loving and faithful care of the only one who can truly care for anything: Jesus Christ Himself.  In that is true freedom.

"He is no fool who loses what he cannot gain to gain what he cannot lose." - Jim Elliot