I woke up before the sun and listened to some very poetic music as it was rising. And I'm discovering just how beautiful creativity is. It's a phenomenon how humans have this God-given ability to imagine and feel....
This past month has been really different, almost like I'm living another life other than the one that I've lived these past two years. I must be honest, I wasn't sure how I felt about moving back home. All I know is that I, if anything, have been feeling a bit discontent, unsatisfied.
This past summer at my internship I learned about having a rhythm of life, and how in a perfect and steady rhythm, there's a freedom. Some people perceive freedom as being unstructured, and to it's extreme, you could say it's chaotic. In regards to this concept of freedom, I can't help but think about how artist Linnea Spransy thinks of it, she says extreme freedom is formless potential. What good is potential if it is not being harnessed and guided? In relation to my own life, there's a potential to live a life completely given to Him, but without structure there can't be any birth to anything really tangibly incredible, without mixture and wholehearted. There's something about having a rhythm of life, this structure, it's self-discipline, and restraint; it's making the choice to die to yourself. And there, that's freedom in it's good form. Freedom within structure, built on undying love. It's a beautiful thing.
This past month has been really different, almost like I'm living another life other than the one that I've lived these past two years. I must be honest, I wasn't sure how I felt about moving back home. All I know is that I, if anything, have been feeling a bit discontent, unsatisfied.
This past summer at my internship I learned about having a rhythm of life, and how in a perfect and steady rhythm, there's a freedom. Some people perceive freedom as being unstructured, and to it's extreme, you could say it's chaotic. In regards to this concept of freedom, I can't help but think about how artist Linnea Spransy thinks of it, she says extreme freedom is formless potential. What good is potential if it is not being harnessed and guided? In relation to my own life, there's a potential to live a life completely given to Him, but without structure there can't be any birth to anything really tangibly incredible, without mixture and wholehearted. There's something about having a rhythm of life, this structure, it's self-discipline, and restraint; it's making the choice to die to yourself. And there, that's freedom in it's good form. Freedom within structure, built on undying love. It's a beautiful thing.
Back to feeling unsatisfied... So in my attempts to create structure, nothing was really solidifying in my day to day life. My rhythm would always get thrown off. So more and more I felt disappointed in myself. I wondered if weak love could be extravagant love. Out of this came the realization that my weak love is still love to God. In fact, he does find it extravagant. The little that we offer is okay. And when I find times spent with Him feeling empty and pointless, I'm getting the revelation that it's that way, not because He's withholding something from me, nor is it supposed to be my own attempt in trying to attain something from God, but because He just gives according to what I need. What I have, is what I have, and it's enough because it's God who brings encounter and revelation. It has nothing to do with my attempts at getting a hold of it. My God is a good Father, and it's always in my best interest when He chooses to unveil Himself or not. So whether He hides behind the lattice, or He gives me a piece of shekinah glory, I'm at rest because He gives me what I need in every moment. I'm not missing out on anything. =)
And yet it's this crazy paradox that while I can rest knowing I have all I need, there's a pull to press in for more, to be in pursuit of the greatest treasure that doesn't rust and isn't destroyed. It's the paradox that is defined by longsuffering. It's patient and yet it bears long and perseveres. I'm learning this.
And yet it's this crazy paradox that while I can rest knowing I have all I need, there's a pull to press in for more, to be in pursuit of the greatest treasure that doesn't rust and isn't destroyed. It's the paradox that is defined by longsuffering. It's patient and yet it bears long and perseveres. I'm learning this.
And now I feel as if I can finally enjoy this season that I'm in. Gleaning from the fellowship of others these past few months, I'm understanding more fully that I'm walking into the story to which Christ has written me into existence, the story He's been, He has, and He will be unfolding on the earth. 2 Corinthians 3:2-3 says,
"You are our epistle written in our hearts, known and read by all men; clearly you are an epistle of Christ, ministered by us, written not with ink but by the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of flesh, that is, of the heart."
He has written us into existence, out of His dream, and out of His heart. We are the fruit of His imagination, the expression of His dreams. A blog I stumbled upon just yesterday was talking about how John the Baptist declared himself as a mere stagehand, and that is what I'd too like to liken myself in this drama. The same blogger writes how it's his desire to continually walk into the fullness of His Story. I second that. I want to be fully involved in this story, fully available. So here I am, in longsuffering, in this creative story.
