There are plenty of things I should be doing but I’m not doing any of them. I should be finishing up the reorganization of the master bedroom. I moved our bed because Mr. FullCup tends to hog the bed all the time, the blankets in the winter, and the cooler air coming in the sliding glass door in the summer. As a woman of a certain age, I tend to carry around my own portable space heater all year long. I’m also prone to fits of spontaneous combustion. And dang it all I need that cool air.
Since murder is out, although, I’m sure, every menopausal and post-menopausal woman would declare it self-defense and completely justified, I thought to just rearrange the furniture.
I have a love-hate relationship with that. I love the newness and the oh-so clean feeling everything has. I don’t mind the process. But I live with pack rats and we have way too much furniture for our little house. But it all has to stay in here because at one time it was great-aunt Gertrude’s second cousin’s husband’s third cousin’s (once removed), uncle Homer’s pet chicken.
But the love. Oh I love the rearranged feeling. But I also hate it. Because you know, there are only so many ways to do it anymore with all the furniture and because no, that has to stay there because it’s the only place it can be because it needs that and we can’t move that because that is where the internet comes in and the modem and router must stay there.
But I also deep clean and that’s nice. I’ve found countless treasures. Or what were at one time treasures now I’ve forgotten why we still have it.
But now I sit here on the floor looking out at the back yard through the sliding glass door. I can see the gnats flitting in the sunshine. I love the way the sun shines on the grass, and the contrast of sunshine and shade. Late afternoon/early evening in the early summer has to be my favorite time of year.
There is a lot on my heart tonight. A lot I’m pondering on. The wheels are turning, the questions churning. I’m not sure I’m ready yet to divulge it all yet. Divulge. Such a nice way to say vomit, isn’t it?
This much I know. Jesus. He is alive and He is working. He is leading. He is guiding. He is Life. And apart from Him there is no life. There is only death, rotten flesh, and maggots.
Pretty picture isn’t it?
There are things He is doing that shock me and I think it’s supposed to be that way. If He doesn’t shock you maybe your relationship or your Jesus is too safe. May be. It probably didn’t feel safe to Peter to be told to get out of the boat and don’t you think he was probably thinking Jesus would say, “Oh no, Peter, it’s Me alright, but you need to stay in the boat because in case, you know, you hadn’t noticed, there’s a nasty storm tonight and you could lose your life.” But instead He said “Come”. And that’s exactly what He says to each of us bold enough or crazy enough to say, “Hey, Lord, is that really You? If it is, tell me to come out there where You are.”
Can you hear Him say, “Come on out here. The water is fine!”
And we thought it was bad in the boat. Now we’re out in the waves, traipsing through water that moments before terrified us. But He says, “You won’t drown.”
Can you hear Him say that your heart? “You won’t drown. No matter what is threatening to topple you, it won’t drown you. I have you.”
And we’re suddenly safe in His arms, in His grip. Walking on the wave with Jesus. It’s a scary, dangerous place of sweet blessing.
The best decision I ever made was not to get married, or have children, or accept Jesus. The best decision I made was when I said, “Jesus, if that is You, tell me to come to you on the water” and then took the first step out of my boat of comfort.