Thursday, February 25, 2010

Can I Just Stare?

When things seem overwhelming, what is your first reaction? Do you immediately plan some solution in mind? Or do you cry out to God in anguish? Or do you slump into a corner in hopelessness?

I do all these things. Only backwards. When things seem too much for me to handle, it’s really difficult for me to get a good grasp on where to start. I find myself lost in the situation with a vague idea of what to do.

Is it that bad to have tiny moments of weakness? To undergo a period of questions and uncertainties?

Most of the time, I stand in the middle of the chaos… and just stare. I stare blankly at everything moving in slow motion. And I feel the waves too intense almost consuming me. There are times I feel like giving in and just accept defeat.

At that point when I am at my weakest, as I allow the waves crashing into me, I feel a hand gently holding me, reassuring me that as I stare, He’s going to stand by me until the chaos turns into stillness in Him.

(It’s so amazing to feel God’s hand so real…)

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

The Big Pic

When God Speaks (1)

It was perfect. It seemed designed for no one else but me. So I started building a protective wall around it. There I held it dearly. There I had it guarded.

Something so precious seemed ideal from the inside of the walls I built. After all I believed it was the “plan.” So I had even the littlest of me involved with it. I was occupied.

And then…a nudge.

I didn’t bother. I was too absorbed to pay attention to a little nudge.

But it was persistent.

I was destabilized.

Hesitant, I stepped back. Perfect as it may have seemed, could I have been mistaken?

I watched it from a distance. But I couldn’t see a thing through those thick walls. I had to tear down a part of it so I could get a glimpse of what I held on to inside.

For some time, I just stared. I assessed. I reasoned.

I realized the more I focused on it, the more it seemed complicated.

Tired of having to adjust my view of it again and again, I tried to rebuild the torn walls and to get back inside where things seemed safer. (I know. Talk about being stubborn.)

But the more I tried to fit in, the more lost I was. It was as if a bigger picture lay somewhere that I needed to understand. And the walls kept me from my focus.

Outside the partially broken walls I stood. Motionless.

I had to decide.


Breaking the walls that I unwisely built is painful. Right in front of me is defenselessness.

I feel weariness sinking in. But the persistence is serious. The big picture is what I need to see.

As weakness surfaces, I hold on to a promise that God’s strength shall sustain. As reluctance continues, He gives assurance that at the end of it all, His design will prove to be the perfect plan.

The tearing of these walls may be a bit slow, and yes, agonizing. But God abounds with patience and love. I am hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; struck down, but not destroyed.

When I finally see the big picture, I know it’s right.