I just finished uploading all my old weblogs onto the new WordPress format. It’s been interesting re-reading my reflections from years past.
In March of 2005, I reflected on a great invitation. In May, I wrote of revival and desiring God. In June, I spoke of hope: “If faith is what enables us to step out when God says “Go” not knowing where our destination will be; then hope is what enables us to relax as we take the step, certain that whatever we may encounter on the journey, the end is beyond our wildest dreams.”
Re-reading these posts re-awakens in me a longing. A longing to accept the invitation, to see the face of God, to rest in hope. It makes me long to be a Jacob generation. It makes me desire that the story of my life bring Him honour.
It seems this is my story. Something whets my appetite and I chase after God. Then I get busy or sick or tired or whatever, and I loosen my grasp. I give up wrestling, I escape unscathed.
But that’s not what I want. I want to enter the King’s courts, no longer making light of His invitation. I want to see the King’s face, and reflect His glory. I want to hope in God in this next stage of my life instead of freaking out about jobs and houses and husbands. I want to wrestle with God until He blesses me, not letting go except that He touches my hip and leaves me with a limp. I want my story to be His story.
Why, O why, can I not seem to translate want into action? I used to be able to, didn’t I? I feel like I did. But now I spend my time looking back with sorrow, unable to hope for the future.
Why are you so downcast, O my soul?
Why are you so disturbed?
Put your hope in God.
For I will yet praise Him.