The Plot Thickens

On Saturday my out-of-town family left after over a week of time spent together. Today some things sort of exploded at work. Tomorrow it will be two years since my father died. Next Sunday (Father's Day) marks two years since his funeral.


My dreams can get pretty interesting in emotionally intense times.


Last night I dreamed that I was playing Marian, from the BBC Robin Hood, and my role was to be imprisoned in the stocks, be mercifully set free by sympathetic bystanders, then be ambushed and killed on the way out. My comrades kept telling me things were going to be okay, and I was mournfully insisting that I did die at the end. 


I posted that dream summary on Facebook this afternoon, and got this response from my friend Lisa: "Good characters are always willing to die for the sake of the plot." She said, "I think writers have to love their characters, but they have to love their story more."


Which reminded me of 2 Corinthians 4, the "jars of clay" passage that talks about suffering being used by God so that Jesus Christ shines through all our broken places. (A clay jar doesn't show what is inside of it if the vessel is intact.)


It is a good thing to recall, as you are dying (2 Cor. 4:11); a good thing to speak into the darkness against the crouching enemies: 


I am willing to die for the sake of the plot.

Take care of the feet

Though the fig tree should not blossom
And there be no fruit on the vines,
Though the yield of the olive should fail
And the fields produce no food,
Though the flock should be cut off from the fold
And there be no cattle in the stalls,
Yet I will exult in the LORD,
I will rejoice in the God of my salvation.
The Lord GOD is my strength,
And He has made my feet like hinds’ feet,
And makes me walk on my high places.

--Habakkuk 3:17-19

These verses fell to me tonight in my church Bible study. I needed them, needed to say them out loud like that.

The last verse especially settled in and stuck out. "Hind" is a pretty old synonym for "deer," but when I read this verse I don't think of deer in Israel, I think of mountain goats out west, jumping around and climbing nearly sheer surfaces as though falling isn't even a possibility.

The thing is, God doesn't always level our paths for us (although sometimes He does, or calls others to do it, e.g. Hebrews 12:13). Sometimes the places He has for us to walk through are rocky and steep and dangerous, and instead of smoothing out the paths, He gives us the right kind of feet.

From the end of the earth I call to You

when my heart is faint;
Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

--Psalm 61:2

More than three sizes

"I shall run in the way of Your commandments,

For You will enlarge my heart."
--Psalm 119:32

This is not how we think of commandments, on our own. Hear "commandments" and you might be prone to think of chains and drudgery. "Did God actually say...?" the serpent in the Garden asks, incredulously, inviting Eve to draw her own conclusions about the sort of God who would command anything.

Yet this morning I stumbled across this verse in Psalm 119, the Bible's greatest love song to the Law (the one that challenges you to believe love and Law are by no means opposites), and I didn't think "chains." You can't run in chains. Running is for wide open spaces and for lungs fit to take in oxygen and for a heart large enough to handle it. For dedicated runners, running is a joyful thing, something to persevere in even through pain because they just don't want to give up a day of running. Running is freedom.

God enlarges our hearts, making it possible to run with excitement in the way of His commands, to know them as the purest form of freedom. And it doesn't say that He will ever stop growing the hearts, growing us.

The God who commands is the God who equips.

Watch where you put your "but"

"Weeping may tarry for the night,

but joy comes with the morning."

-- Psalm 30:5b

I've noticed lately that I have a tendency to reverse this.

"I like my house, but it's not organized yet."

"God is faithful, but life is difficult."

"Christians know the end of the story works out great, but the middle is kind of a mess."

These are all true statements. Worded as they are, though, the emphasis falls in the wrong place. Even if both parts of a statement are true, we usually place more emphasis on what comes after the "but."

Words matter. The way I use them matters. I want to watch where I put my "but" because it matters, and because after a "but" there is usually an "and," and I want the part of the statement that keeps going to be the one that's going in the right direction.

My house isn't organized yet, but I like it and I'm making progress.

Life is difficult, but God is faithful and He is with me in more ways than I can understand now.

The middle is kind of a mess, but Christians know the end of the story works out great, and we can put up with dramatic conflict while anticipating a beautiful resolution.

"In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world."

--John 16:33b

Psalm 97:11

"Light is sown for the righteous,
and joy for the upright in heart."

-- Psalm 97:11

I'm not much of a gardener, much less a farmer, but I know that when you sow seeds you don't expect to see them sprout immediately. But there is joy in anticipating the harvest (especially if you know that, unlike you, the Gardener doesn't ever kill what He has planted).