I want to write about things that mean a lot to me: ideas that keep me going or inspire me. But some things are too close, too dear, for words.
Today I wanted to write stories, but when I tried to form sentences I realized all I want to do is practice. Don’t write; do. And I want to do coy debates and romance and being a wife to an incredibly faith-filled man. As that is clearly not God’s plan for my day, I had to ask what to do with this surge of inspiration. I’m emotional today, and I need a vent for all this rapture.
So on my way home from work I looked at the sky (stubbornly trying to rationalize how I could be grateful the sun wasn’t down while still hating Daylight Savings Time). I want to own this day. A photo wouldn’t capture it, and a painter would have to be a master to get even one glimpse of this day right. The sun lit the dark blue clouds in the east, intensifying their color and varnishing them with a glorious haze. Between the clouds and me were trees, still bare from the cold of winter, every twig illuminated separately. Where the light didn’t reach, the shadow asserted itself with depth and variance and character. The little whiter clouds nearer the zenith blew in and out of formation, constantly contrasting with the colors and shapes around them. Praise God who created shape and color!
And it was all a gift to me. Songs I have not sung in months came to mind, and I sang of my Savior coming for me. “Hear the roaring at the rim of the world… Behold He’s coming with the clouds.” The clouds and glimmering landscape captured my eye and imagination, as though cracking the door open on the edge of the world. I sang of who my Savior is, what He did on earth, and of His passion. And then I dreamed again of when He will come back. “I saw the holy city… and now our God will dwell with them.”
And this is all about waiting, and love, and faithfulness, and longing, and worship, and beauty, and glory. I want to write how I feel at those times, and what I know, and the million connections being made between the things I know about my God… but I can’t. For now the topics that mean the most, that are most gifts of God, must stay that. I pray that someday He will call me to share them, and bless me with the words I don’t have today.
Today I wanted to write stories, but when I tried to form sentences I realized all I want to do is practice. Don’t write; do. And I want to do coy debates and romance and being a wife to an incredibly faith-filled man. As that is clearly not God’s plan for my day, I had to ask what to do with this surge of inspiration. I’m emotional today, and I need a vent for all this rapture.
So on my way home from work I looked at the sky (stubbornly trying to rationalize how I could be grateful the sun wasn’t down while still hating Daylight Savings Time). I want to own this day. A photo wouldn’t capture it, and a painter would have to be a master to get even one glimpse of this day right. The sun lit the dark blue clouds in the east, intensifying their color and varnishing them with a glorious haze. Between the clouds and me were trees, still bare from the cold of winter, every twig illuminated separately. Where the light didn’t reach, the shadow asserted itself with depth and variance and character. The little whiter clouds nearer the zenith blew in and out of formation, constantly contrasting with the colors and shapes around them. Praise God who created shape and color!
And it was all a gift to me. Songs I have not sung in months came to mind, and I sang of my Savior coming for me. “Hear the roaring at the rim of the world… Behold He’s coming with the clouds.” The clouds and glimmering landscape captured my eye and imagination, as though cracking the door open on the edge of the world. I sang of who my Savior is, what He did on earth, and of His passion. And then I dreamed again of when He will come back. “I saw the holy city… and now our God will dwell with them.”
And this is all about waiting, and love, and faithfulness, and longing, and worship, and beauty, and glory. I want to write how I feel at those times, and what I know, and the million connections being made between the things I know about my God… but I can’t. For now the topics that mean the most, that are most gifts of God, must stay that. I pray that someday He will call me to share them, and bless me with the words I don’t have today.
To God be all glory,
Lisa of Longbourn
PS: Michael Card’s Unveiled Hope album is a soundtrack to Revelation, and a soaring symphony to the King on His White Horse coming back for me.
PS: Michael Card’s Unveiled Hope album is a soundtrack to Revelation, and a soaring symphony to the King on His White Horse coming back for me.
Lisa of Longbourn 