Ah, Saturday

You would think that I would be able to get to a simple Blog from time to time... I guess it's too much to ask lately. Mark and I used to sit around at work with nothing to do and joke about how the pace was 'killing' us. Those words seem to be ringing with a little bit of truth now. In March, we sat down and scheduled April with projects and edit sessions that we knew had to be done... it filled up literally every day that month. We recently plotted out May and June, and they look exactly the same, with the exception of the last week of June when I'll be in Ft. Lauderdale for missions training. It's unreal actually - good, but unreal. Last Sunday we drove 3 hours south to get set up in a hotel to shoot Monday and Tuesday. We got back home Tuesday night about 9:30 and I've been catching up in the office and the bed since. I was relieved to have some sleep-in time today.

And I feel pretty good.

Today I have to do a few things around the house and get myself together to head south to Grand Rapids. My girlfriend Lauren moved away a few weeks ago, but will be in GR for her sister's college graduation today, so I'm going to drive down and see her. It should be nice little girls' night for all of us at my friend Laura's who lives there.

In the meantime, I have been thinking a lot about my life and what I am accomplishing. I know, first of all, that working for Jeannine (my boss) was an opportunity that came straight from the Lord. It was the perfect timing and I've learned a lot. I am sure you understand the feeling of knowing that you are not at your final destination, and recognize the variables surrounding where you will end up. I am in the 2nd run through of a book I mentioned awhile back. It's called Strong Women Soft Hearts. (I actually promised to include a few quotes and never got around to it). Something I read again in the last chapter that really struck me.

"There is a particular image that I want to leave with you that symbolizes the freedom and passion of heart I think God invites us to in this life. The story comes out of the last century, from the life of John Muir, a famous explorer of the Pacific Northwest. For decades, Muir tramped up and down the rugged territory from the California Sierras to the Alaskan glaciers, entering into whatever he found there with a kind of childlike delight and appreciation. He thrived on experiencing this great yet-unchartered land. One December day a storm blew in from the Pacific-the kind that bent the junipers and pines like so many blades of grass. Everyone retreated to their cabins to sit beside cozy fires, wrapped in sheepskins. But Muir pulled the door tight behind him and strode out of the cabin, into the storm. He climbed a high ridge and chose a giant Douglas fir for a perch from where he experienced the whole show –all the color and sound, scent and motion he could take in, holding on for dear life.
If God has you in the palm of his hand and your real life is secure in him, then you can venture forth-into the places and relationships, the challenges, the very heart of the storm-and you will be safe there. I have no idea where God will lead as the cabin door shuts behind you. Perhaps you will find yourself like our friends who sold the family business and moved to Calcutta to help some folks discover Christ and start cottage industries. Or maybe your perch will be more like mine, right on my own street, entering into the life God has for me here –for all I’m worth. I only know that life with him is about this venturing forth and taking your heart along for the trip.
There are only three options for approaching life, Gerald May wrote in his book Addiction and Grace. We can deny the call of God on our lives or just pretend the call isn’t there. Or we can try to claim control of the shape and form our lives will take. The third option, he says, is the courageous attempt “to face life in a truly undefended and open-ended way.” He is speaking of this willingness to take our perch in the Douglas fir-where the real stuff is happening and we know we aren’t the ones in control. Where trusting God is indeed the only agenda that makes any sense at all. It is the posture of ‘gracious uncertainty’ meaning that we have given up the illusion of being certain of anything but God.
In this place of gracious uncertainty, we wait. For the broken pieced to be brought back together. For the meaning of our suffering to be revealed in his. For the righteous reign of a mighty God, whose goodness we will spend all eternity celebrating. We wait-with open, expectant hearts.

Waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us, but the longer we wait… the more joyful our expectancy.”

This is the course of my life… and all of ours really. It’s a dance of moving forward, and waiting. Learning the correct steps, then making them – only to find that we have so many more to learn. But somewhere in this journey is comfort. The comfort to know that we are seeking Him first and foremost – and that although we don’t exactly know where we are headed, or what storms we may weather, He’s a strong leader and we are safe in His care. This is what I cling to.