I used to listen to a lot of Ginny Owens.
She's a blind pianist and pretty great, I think. Wonderful lyricist. Not like the wit and charm of Relient K (who literally has an appropriate song for every occasion) but wisdom and spiritual encouragement.
Over the break home, I played one of her songs on repeat called, "I am."
The chorus says, "There's a bigger picture you can't see. You don't have to change the world, just trust in me. "Cause I am your creator. I am working out my plan, and through you, I will show them I am."
I thought of this song when one of my professors from university asked me what the bigger picture here was. Did I see a purpose, a greater purpose in my emotional suffering of last semester?
I didn't know. I saw no purpose except for the death of me for the glory of God which, to be fair, ain't too shabby of a reason all in itself. But things are always greater than us. What is the purpose?
Bit by bit, I think I've started to understand. Not in whole, but in part.
Time after time, I have had the honor of hearing the stories of my own friends back home and students in this group. Time after time, my own story has aligned with theirs, except that they are in the midst of what I've finally been dragged out of by my ponytail and throat and learned from.
I have BEEN there. I am with you in this.
I don't have answers, but I have revelations that never would have occurred to me before and I can't help but pass on with gushy joy and vigor. And if nothing else, I can very simply just be someone who can reassuringly say, "Me too" and stand by them in joint understanding so they know their struggle is not theirs to carry alone.
Hours after one of those conversations, I'll have the evil passing thought of, "Was I just...wise?"
Then there is a moment of choice for me. Either, I say to myself, "DUH!" or "I have no wisdom."
Both are false. I think by experience, nonchristians as well as christians can gain wisdom. The first answer would be prideful and show me to be not wise at all. The second answer just isn't true. By the grace of God, I do have a slight degree of wisdom.
For me, I think the ones who are truly wise are the ones who don't even question it. Who don't care or even consider the question. They love God. They love God so much that he can't help but dominate conversations with his wisdom and grace through them.
My struggles matter. Even if my story only touches one other person in such a way as to cause them to think more critically about his or her life and somewhere, somehow down the line, they are drawn closer to God because of it, then it was all worth it. I don't even have to know.
That's the beautiful thing about being part of the bigger picture. The thin purple thread has no idea that it's a necessary twist to complete a sunset/robe/tulip in the tapestry. But it does. The only one who can truly see its purpose and place is the creator.
It matters what I say. It matters what I do. It matters how I respond to God and people. It matters how I love. It matters how I pray. It matters how I engage.
And how beautiful it is that I'm alive.
Not just resurrected but recreated.
Equipped and able to worship and praise and rejoice with a thankful heart in my and others' existences and place in one another's stories.
I'm not who I was.
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