Hey fam, folks, friends, whoevs,
What is this, you might be wondering?
Well this is not my World Race blog. It’s not my super old and weird blogspot. It’s not where I compile my Bible study notes. It’s also not my ‘Phylla House’ voice site.
You get me. Just plain me, finding my voice after a long bout of silence.
This is the overflow, the outpouring, the rising bit after the falling bit.
I’m figuring out that I’m still going up, and that my ‘mountaintop’ was just a rest stop with a view, on the side of an impossibly high mountain. When I strain to look too far up, I feel small and powerless. The task ahead is overwhelming… as it should be. But currently I have enough strength for today. That’s all I’m promised, anyway.
Today is a fun and difficult day. Again, I feel like I am rising and choosing to move forward. There’s a hardening that goes on for me on days like these, setting my face like flint like Isaiah 50:7 and singing Roar, and declaring that I have yet to see the glory that lies ahead of me. That’s my hope. My double portion is on its way, right?
Through my latest and greatest struggles, I’ve figured out that some parts of me are hard to kill. I love to be right, and oh I hate to be wrong. I hate it when plans change too quickly. I still care way too much what people think of me, if they think I am a good decision-maker. I want people to see me do the right thing. It humbles me so much to be wrong, even if the risk was worth it. Jesus has allowed me to be wrong plenty of times in these 26 years. Wrong with my heart, with the best intentions, with the utmost vulnerability. Publicly wrong. Disappointed and disappointing. Yet I am still appointed. Write that into a song, somebody?
Doesn’t everybody want to make awesome decisions that never fall through? People in life to stay in it? Kitchens to stay perfectly clean, and beds made? We are lofty goal setters, aiming for perfection, aren’t we?
Aiming for perfection goes hand in hand with coming up short. We are pros at reconciling reality with cliches and quotes about how being ‘The Man in the Arena’ is better than being like “those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat” (thanks, Teddy Roosevelt). And it’s true. It doesn’t make everything okay, doesn’t make the road ahead any easier, but it’s a little shot of truth and courage, to help us to keep up the struggle juggle and not get all weird and bitter and scary.
That little voice that squashes hope and says that every day will always be like today… that little voice has never known the discipline of watching the sunrise from the same spot for a week straight.
For one, it’s early and painful and cold to get up that early, so it takes some guts to get up out of the warm bed.
Also, there is no guarantee. It can be a miserable experience, rainy, yucky, muddy. Or if the sky is too clear, it’s so boring.
But oh that one day redeems the ruined 6, the one with the clouds just right, with the pinks, the oranges, the glowing. It makes you wonder if you could have skipped out on all the other days and just caught that one sunrise.
I guarantee you, though, as an avid sunrise watcher, the ugly sunrises teach you more than the pretty ones. They give you time to think. They make you ask God ‘why’ and actually listen for the answer.
What is it that lights up a weary, tired, broken heart with hope and laughter?
This is me finding it out, writing it out.
Welcome to my personal blog.
Join me as I rise and shine.