Just thinking

In the last 4 years, I have learned a couple of things that have changed my life. And like most lessons that stick, I had to go about learning them the
VERY hard way. I really hope (and I've prayed) that God would really sear this knowledge into my heart, because there are just some lessons I'd like to not have to re-learn that same old very hard way. (And yes, if I had been one of the Israelites called out of Egypt, I would have gotten to wander in the desert for 40 years. That's the kind of hard-headed, stubborn, ignorant, small-picture girl that I am.)

Ok, here are some of the things that I have learned:

Praying (and praying, and praying) in the midst of heartache and struggle don't usually make me feel any better than before I began my prayer. I know this isn't true for everybody, but this is true for me. I usually don't feel any better at all. Sometimes, I feel worse. But when I pray, I know that God knows how sick at heart I am, and that is what has made the difference.

Against a thousand doubts, there is hope. It sometimes is smaller than a grain of sand in the midst of a huge ocean of fear. Emily Dickinson says, "Hope is a thing with feathers, that perches on the soul . . ." and sings its song, even without knowing the way. I am regularly astonished how even the tiniest particle of hope can eclipse the darkness that threatens, how little this thing is to which I sometimes cling.

Forgiveness is very, very daily. I will never accomplish this thing called forgiving. I won't ever be able to wipe it from my mental to-do list. I will have to take this practice of forgiveness, and extend it to myself and to others every single day for the rest of my life. And then I will have to forgive some more.

A lot of things aren't going to be fair or every really work themselves out on this side of heaven. This is a huge one for me to swallow, because I thrive on getting things "worked out" and on making sure that things happen in a fair way. But on this side of heaven, the principles of fairness are going to be forever swinging on an unbalanced pendulum, and there won't be one single thing that I can do about it. Things will only be worked out in eternity, where I will live in the eternal gratitude of knowing that I didn't get what I deserved, either. Maybe then I will finally understand the real definition of mercy.

There is an old Jewish story that is told of a rabbi. He is sitting at the top of a hill, surrounded by his students. As they look down below, a group of murderous men ransack the city below, destroying homes and destroying people. In anguish the rabbi cries, "I wish I were God!" A student asks, "What would you do dif ferently if you were God?" The rabbi replies, "I wouldn't do anything differently. But if I were God, I would understand." And that's the last lesson for this post: I've learned that there is a great deal that I just don't understand. But maybe what looks like chaos from below perhaps is a beautiful pattern if looked at from above, if only I had the eyes to see it right. I have to trust that I serve a God who loves, and be content to live in the mystery that is not knowing--that someday, I will understand.

That's some of what I've learned. More to come.

(I know. You're praying that Rob will return with some news about windmills and aeroplanes and lighten this place up. He will, and I find his enthusiasm for the world around us very, very endearing. Love you, dear.)

Jana