healing in the storm

Africa has the greatest storms. The rainy season finally comes after months of drought. By the time the first drop falls, the earth is cracked and parched. Lakes and ponds have all but dried up. The tall savannah grass is brown and brittle.

The earth is thirsty. Ready. Waiting.

And then, out of nowhere one day, the storm clouds roll in.

The blackened sky sobs heavy tears. You can feel the thunder deep in your bones as it echoes through the plains. The lightning makes you jump with fear and paralyzes you with awe all in the same loud, bright instant. The wind reminds you that only God could tie the trees down tightly enough.

Africa's storms are altogether wonderful.

And altogether terrible.

Water rushes into homes, through the cracks in mud hut walls and the gaps in old thatch roofs and the seams in tin shack ceilings. Gusts of wind blow right through bedrooms and marble-sized hail destroys gardens. Those with only their feet for transportation run for any cover they can find---the bus stop, the liquor store, the first home they can reach in the village.

The storms are harsh. And unrelenting. And inconvenient.

And yet, they are welcomed.

There is a joy about the rainy season. "We need it," is what you'll hear.

"We need it."

They find it easy to say. Easy to see. Easy to recognize and acknowledge that as challenging as the storm may be, good will come of it. It is, after all, an answer to countless prayers for the sun-scorched ground of Africa.

They know that the thirst can't be quenched without the storm.

Spring can't come without the rain.

New life can't bud deep beneath the surface of the dry, crusty ground until the heavens unleash their fury.

The drought doesn't end until the storms start.

We need it.

I need it.

I need this storm in my life. Not as punishment or discipline or as some cruel cosmic joke that has God chuckling to Himself. I need it because of what's waiting on the other side, that I can't see yet.

I need it because my cracked, dry heart doesn't remember anymore what it feels like to be filled to overflowing.

I need it because everything in my life has turned the bare, barren brown of winter. And I'm despearte for the life-awakening green of spring.

I need it.

Even when I hate it.

Africa reminds me to take joy in the downpour.

For there is healing in this storm...

Originally a guest post at Mary DeMuth's...

don't miss Him

I love the story of Esther. From start to finish, it's one of the most compelling books of the Bible. But sit down and actually read it all from the first verse to the last one, and you'll notice something intriguing.

If you notice it at all.

The word "God" isn't found in the entire book of Esther. Not even once.

Don't believe me? Read all ten chapters and see for yourself.

"God" isn't in there.

And yet, He is unmistakably all over it.

A timely reminder for me to read between the lines of my own life for Him.

Because He is clearly all over it.

Even when I don't see Him.

i kissed dating goodbye

I didn't date until I was 20, and my first and only boyfriend became my husband a couple years later. He is the only guy I've ever kissed; he's the only one I've ever slept with. And somewhere along the line, without even realizing it, I assumed that had earned me some brownie points with God.

After all, I'd "kissed dating goodbye". I'd saved myself for my husband. Subconsciously, I thought that guaranteed an incredible, lasting marriage.

But then he cheated on me.

And ultimately chose her over me.

In some ways, it feels like I'd saved myself for nothing... Like none of it mattered.

I know, at least on some levels, that that isn't true. I know that even my "all things" are intended for my good, even when it's impossible to see. I know that He is redeeming, restoring, rebuilding me, for His ultimate purpose.

I also know that redemption doesn't usually look like we think it will.

And that there are no brownie points to be had. There are no guarantees, no obligatory blessings, no automatic protections or provisions.

Life is just plain hard. Even though God is good.

Even though God is good.

And even when I "kissed dating goodbye".

I hope to someday see the bigger picture. The full circle. The "none of it mattered" transformed into "every bit of it mattered".

But even if I don't, even if I won't, I'm still called to trust Him. To live on the truth of what He says and who He is.

Because then and only then...

All of it mattered.

Originally a guest post at Love Wins

trusting God

I woke up with this phrase running through my mind--- "Trust in God, and trust also in Me."

Jesus said that. Right after He said "Don't let your hearts be troubled." Which means I'm allowing my heart to be troubled when I choose not to trust in Him.

I need to hear that again.

I'm allowing my heart to be troubled when I choose not to trust Him.

I'm gonna stop right there, because that one sentence gives me plenty to think about and try to put into action today.

Sheesh... if only trust were easy.

And if only I hadn't chose to risk more this year...

eternity in our hearts

"He has planted eternity in the human heart."

Such a beautiful, divine thought...

Eternity is planted deeply in the soil of my heart. Placed there by God Himself.

If eternity is within me, then the past and the future exist in each moment just as much as the present does.

Trying to wrap my brain around that makes my head hurt. Such an unfathomable concept.

But the idea that eternity courses through me with every beat of my heart, seems to make some sense of my too-often struggle with being fully present in the moment.

I'm not very good at living in the now.

I am more likely to dwell on the past or restlessly wander ahead into the future. Both hold fears and hopes, of entirely different kinds. And both can either rob me of my present or enhance it.

God is timeless---existing simultaneously before now, after now, and right now---and He's planted the seed of His timelessness inside me.

As a gift, not to be fought against, but to be embraced.

There is a reason He wants me to live in the tension that past, present, and future create as they collide in every single moment. There is a purpose in the struggle.

Maybe embracing the now doesn't mean switching off the ever backward- and forward-wandering of my heart.

Maybe, instead, it means choosing to engage my present in light of the regrets and joys of my past, and the hopeful, sometimes fearful, yearnings of my future.

I need to remember that the One who was and is and is to come, lives within me, stabilizing me in the uncertainty of what was and is and is to come.

When I do, I live more mindful that God is in control. I live with more active trust in Him.

The constancy of Christ at work inside me---He who is the same yesterday, today, and forever---provides an anchor for my unpredictably inconsistent heart.

And that anchor holds fast.

No matter how turbulent the storm may be.

[Originally a guest post at Mel's World...]