Driving the Psalms

Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. Psalm 119:105

A couple weeks ago, I went down to visit my sister in Tennessee. I enjoyed beautiful weather and great hiking and good company of college kids. I had a really great time.

Driving home, I hit a little snag called a snow storm. What a rude awakening from the lovely weekend. It felt like life was saying, "Welcome back to reality".

The snowstorm made for terrible driving conditions. terrible. Some of the worst roads I'd seen in my whole life. I clutched the steering wheel, white-knuckled for most of the way home, barely able to see ten feet in front of me. Waiting for a plow or a sand truck, but not finding one. Being passed by people not smart enough to know the danger(or with better tires than mine).

Fresh in my mind was something the director of a play we saw while in Tennessee had said: "I see life as us waking up in a dark room, and in the distance, there's a door and there's light pouring out from the door, and a hand reaching for us. The hand is God, and when we choose to grab on to it, the rest of our life is us moving closer to that light."

That was a paraphrase, but I liked what he said. So, as I drove, I thought about God being light and how badly I needed light at that time. How those headlights, even on high beams, were barely enough to get me through. But the light was there, leading me on. Behind me, darkness and slick furrowed roads. Ahead, light, and the hope of Iowa, where they actually know how to treat/plow the highways.

Just like walking in life. I press forward with the Light ahead of me, surrounded by darkness on a treacherous path. Without the Light, surely I would lose my way. Surely I would die in a ditch, unnoticed by the rest of the world. Behind me, darkness. Ahead, the hope of Glory. The light of day. Clinging to that hand of God tighter every time I stumble. Closer to the light each time.

Joshua and the Tent of Meeting

Exodus 33:11 The LORD would speak to Moses face to face, as a man speaks with his friend. Then Moses would return to the camp, but his young aide Joshua son of Nun did not leave the tent.

I ran across this verse while preparing devotionals for theatrical camp earlier this summer. It stuck out to me, amidst all of the strange tales of God's wrath and rules, and the wonders He preformed. People didn't know God back then like we know Him now. In fact, He'd been kind of quiet for a long time before Moses arrived on the scene. His people (the Israelite) had to rely on Moses to connect them to Him, and He often seemed unapproachable and uncaring. That's another topic. This verse I found is from a section where they talk about how Moses set up a tent to meet God in, and how the Israelites had to stay away because God's glory was too much for them to handle. And yet, there's this kid, Moses' young aide who couldn't get enough of it. He was privileged anyway, to be able to go into that tent with Moses. And then he just wanted to stay.

I remember a time when I felt I couldn't get enough of God's presence. I was young and impressionable. Maybe I was passionate, it's hard to say, because it seems so long ago and so misguided now. If you know my story, you might know how changing churches caused a crisis of belief, and, I think, in the end, a little bit of hardening in my heart. I love God so much, and I want to please Him and serve Him, and I do what I can to glorify Him, but alas, I do not linger in the tent. I rush through my prayers and Bible-reading, hoping for a quick answer, praying because I think I should and then hurrying off into my chaotic day.

We can speak with God face-to-face, unlike the Israelites, but often I just approach my relationship with Him as if I can't. I list off my concerns and do my duty, and hurry away, hoping that He'll tag along with me for the day. I read that verse and realized how much I want to savor His presence in my life again. How much I want to be like Joshua.

Getting In

Last week and the previous one, I helped with theatrical camp at my church. I got to write the devotion books for the kids to use for the two weeks. This year the play was about Exodus. Basically a kid's version of the 10 Commandments. I wasn't really happy with how the homework turned out, because to me it seemed too difficult for 5th8th graders. There were some who agreed with me, and others who thought they were great. Either way, the work I did on them got me thinking about the Promised Land. There's too much theology in there to explain where my thoughts ended up going, but since then, I've been thinking about heaven and wanting it more and more.
I know that we get to experience God here on earth and find home in Him, but I've felt so unsettled ever since I lost Grace. I want to be there now, where the pain will be gone and I can just hold my little girl and see her in the true image of God. I don't want to live through this life and watch bad things happen and try as hard as I can to be like Jesus but continually fail. Some days I'm tired of the dim glass we have to look at God through. I just want to be there with Him.
It's probably just a piece of my grief surfacing. Lately talk of heaven or songs just cause me to well up with such strong emotions that I cry. I hate being that way because I never used to be "emotional", but there's no way to change it. I want heaven. I want Jesus. I want to see God and know Him fully.
I've been familiar with this quote for many years now, since my brother-in-law attached himself to it. I discovered it about the same time as he did, but it's his, so I haven't used it like it's mine. But these last few months, it resonates so true with me:

"At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of the morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendors we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumor that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in." C.S. Lewis

Some day.