The perfect beauty of this morning actually hurts me. As I steal a quiet hour in my little garden with a cup of coffee, the world saturated in green, trees in bloom, birdsong, the first signs of new life coming up in my raised beds… My heart aches. The unabashed brilliance of life. It stings. Because there is so much suffering. So many people living in a crisis of one sort or another. So many people asking, with trembling voices, the collective question, “What is going to happen?”
I long for a world where there is no sickness or death, where there are no crises, where there is no corruption or deception, were motives are clear and are for the benefit of humankind. Where news is good. Where there are no lies. Where there is only truth and only trust. Where there is no evil. Where nature is wild and free but harmless. Where the wolf lays down with the lamb. Where a little child can lead it all.
Jesus, let your Kingdom come.
In the chaos of these past few weeks, I take great comfort in knowing that every day of my life was recorded in God’s book before a single day had passed. I know that he put me and my family in this moment in history. We do not know what is going to happen, but God will use all things to work together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. I am reminded again that my life is not about my own happiness, my own ambitions, or my own plans. I am reminded that the “security” of my life is not the house I live in, the jobs that pay my bills, or the money I have in the bank. It’s not food in the pantry. What felt like the sturdy infrastructure of my life a few weeks ago now seems fragile. Living in this scenario feels like holding my breath. I am more aware than ever that there is a greater narrative than the everyday hustle and bustle of existence. That my life is part of a great and over-arching story of God’s love, grace, and redemption. My life belongs to God. He made me for this moment. He put these children in our care for this unprecedented time. We do not know where we may be asked to go, but we know that He will illuminate the path before us one step at a time. That is all we can ask or hope for–to do his will. To live for his glory. To be a part of His invisible Kingdom that is and is to come.
I refuse to live this sacred moment of my life in fear of what is to come. I embrace the helplessness of my current state. It is a reminder to me that in my weakness, His strength is made perfect. I embrace this season where the the structure of my life feels like it could collapse at any moment. It is a reminder to me that I was created by God, and that He is building something out of my life that will stand long after the plagues and destructions and deceptions of this world have come and gone. I was made for life. Abundant. Everlasting. The life we see now is just a shallow breath. I embrace it. Even in such a tenuous moment, life is a sacred gift. I can embrace even this season because God is still in control. So I will not live in fear. Instead, I press myself deeper into the beauty of the day. I see the eyes of those I love–eyes alive with colors as brilliant as any springtime garden. I hear the voices of my husband and children, more beautiful to me than a chorus of birdsong. I lean into the beauty of this moment, praising God for life, for ease of breath, for a morning cup of coffee, for the light of another day. I will face the future with faith and hope and love. And I will teach this to my children. And as long as we have breath, we will praise Him.
