Summer

The morning wakes eerie rose behind a thick cloak of gray today, a red morning rising, predicting the storms to come later, I suppose. The heat has been relentless here of late; it is hard to breathe when even the rain breaks up as it nears the sea. I try not to take this time too seriously. It is summer, I say. We had a lovely, perfect spring; of course summer will follow suit and pay her dues in full.

She plays an apt metaphor for my life of late.

I know that my online identity is limited to my most recent blog post, as if hot summer is here and will never end, but I have been in this place before. I can’t deny it any more than I can push off the seasons, and there is no air conditioning relief for the weight on my spirit of late. I half pray for the storms to break over me now, pray for rain to refresh me, even if rain comes with wind and hail to do violence to my way of life.

I don’t change unless my heart changes, and I feel it restless, reaching for change. I cannot live in-between forever. My waiting is nearing its end; God is drawing near, and I want to look at Him, want to raise my hands and my whole life up and lay it out before Him now. I haven’t done that for a long time. I haven’t been here for a long time.

I remember the intimacy of this place. The knowledge of Him, the deepened trust. And now I come with fear and more experience, but the fear of Him is the beginning of wisdom. It leaves me human, lets Him be God who He is, without my limiting Him.

I never know how much I am willing to live here in this place. I want something more than this, and I have it sometimes, when I take pictures, when what I see is beauty to others. But when what I see is that we who want to be right are really missing God’s grace entirely, when Truth turns tables in temples and anger doesn’t look like love at all, I want to drop off the face of the earth. I’d rather not exist than see this truth, but it burns in me and I cannot escape it as my love deepens like His and I dare to speak, knowing that my earthen vessel leaves much to be desired.

I know freedom. I know grace. I know the joy of it because I have known judgment. Yet I am only learning to offer it to others in the way God has offered it to me. Am I not to speak of what I know until I can be an authority on it? I don’t know. My dust wasn’t meant for perfection. My spirit is already whole in Christ. I learn to speak with boldness because I know that I am no longer condemned by Him. But sometimes speaking with boldness means accepting the condemnation of others, so I have to make a choice – do I want Him more than I want not to be alone?

There are good days, when the sun sparkles in and the world feels exciting wild, when even the storms tantalize my restless heart ready for anything. And there are days when the pain goes so deep all I can remember is that “All is not lost,” and God draws near because no one else will.

I learn slow to be still, and not to lash out. I learn not to push Him away. I learn to accept this gift, even if it is not received.

There is so much more than here. I forget too often.