It still amazes me that I can read a certain passage of scripture a hundred times and suddenly, one day, read it with eyes wide open, as if it's a new passage.
Today I read Psalm 23. Funny, I have read it forever. I memorized it in my Catholic school days. I've studied it piece by piece. Yet, today, I am right there. I am a sheep. I am dumb. I am tired. I am in a green meadow full of good food, and leaning into rest. I picture myself sitting in the warm sun, listening to the trickling of a nearby stream, without a care in the world. Why? My shepherd is there with me.
He takes care of me. Sometimes, I don't even give it a second thought, except that if he wasn't there, I would surely feel his absence. Even though I know that there are many wolves prowling behind the rocks a stone's throw away, I am not afraid. His rod and staff scare them away. When we're walking, he gently holds the rod against me so that I do not fall off of the craggy cliffs. Sometimes I'm stubborn, and I try to go a different way - where the grass looks greener. Then he has to be a little firmer with the staff. But he always leads me beside the still water, where I drink more than I could possibly hold. I am refreshed. I am at peace. I am at rest. Wow! Who wouldn't want to be a dumb sheep?
You know, I've been privileged with lovely times of sweet conversation with other woman. As a Christian, and a pastor's wife, I've heard many valuable nuggets of Truth. But honestly, when I sit before my Shepherd - exhausted, anxious, overwhelmed, unsure, He restores my soul like no human word of wisdom can do. I encourage you to let Him lead you to rest in the meadows. And I leave you with Psalm 23:
The Lord is my shepherd, I have all I need.
He lets me rest in green meadows, he leads me beside peaceful streams.
He renews my strength.
He guides me along right paths, bringing honor to his name.
Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me.
Your rod and your staff protect and comfort me.
You prepare a feast for me in the presence of my enemies.
You honor me by anointing my head with oil.
My cup overflows with blessings.
Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life,
and I will live in the house of the Lord forever. (Psalm 23, NLT)
http://www.middle-east-pictures.com/middle-east/pictures/Drinking-Stream-Sheep.jpg
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
LIFE
It's been such a long time since I have felt the need or have had the opportunity to blog, that I almost forgot I had one! I stumbled upon it quite by accident, actually, through a series of catch-ups with various social networks of which I'd lost connection. Well, give me a few (or few hundred) snow days, and I'm all caught up!
I look out my window on days like these and find myself continually vacillating between the feelings of absolute depression, and complete contentment. A birch tree without leaves is not a lovely sight to behold; yet, throw on some white, glistening snow and a hungry blue jay, and, voila: beauty in the ugly. Life in death. I keep reminding myself that, although I can't see them, those daffodil bulbs are sprouting through the frozen ground. The snow - that cold, hard, insurmountable pile of snow is, even now, keeping them warm. At this very moment, the trees are preparing to send out their leaves. With white, gray death surrounding me, the promise of life is my hope, my promise, my guarantee.
Is that what Jesus thought of while he was hanging in unimaginable physical, spiritual, and emotional pain on the rugged cross? Was he reminded of His very creation and the illustration of His plan given to us by it? Was His hope, His promise, His guarantee of His resurrection what gave Him the courage to press on until "it was finished"? More importantly, was the promise of MY life even while I was dead, forefront in His mind?
I still won't apologize for thinking green is prettier than white, blue is more beautiful than gray. I will probably still complain every time I have to put on my coat, boots... and every time I have to warm up my car to pull out of the driveway. Make no mistake though, I know the hope I have: the hope of Spring... the promise of new life.
I look out my window on days like these and find myself continually vacillating between the feelings of absolute depression, and complete contentment. A birch tree without leaves is not a lovely sight to behold; yet, throw on some white, glistening snow and a hungry blue jay, and, voila: beauty in the ugly. Life in death. I keep reminding myself that, although I can't see them, those daffodil bulbs are sprouting through the frozen ground. The snow - that cold, hard, insurmountable pile of snow is, even now, keeping them warm. At this very moment, the trees are preparing to send out their leaves. With white, gray death surrounding me, the promise of life is my hope, my promise, my guarantee.
Is that what Jesus thought of while he was hanging in unimaginable physical, spiritual, and emotional pain on the rugged cross? Was he reminded of His very creation and the illustration of His plan given to us by it? Was His hope, His promise, His guarantee of His resurrection what gave Him the courage to press on until "it was finished"? More importantly, was the promise of MY life even while I was dead, forefront in His mind?
I still won't apologize for thinking green is prettier than white, blue is more beautiful than gray. I will probably still complain every time I have to put on my coat, boots... and every time I have to warm up my car to pull out of the driveway. Make no mistake though, I know the hope I have: the hope of Spring... the promise of new life.
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