there’s a stirring in my soul today. i can feel it.
monday i was so tired. i had been working for what seemed like days on end; so i prayed for sabbath. God answered, and i got sick. rest, of course, ensued.
(mind you, not entirely of my own will. rest came about more because our lead pastor banned me from helping with church stuff that afternoon and ben gently took me by the shoulders and told me not to get off the couch. you see, i am stubborn even when i feel like crap.)
i was better by the next morning (miracle much?) but awakened to find out how desperately ill my city is. a baby from birth to age one dies every other day in my city, i had no idea. moreover among the african-american population in my neighborhood, their babies have a higher likelihood of dying before their first birthday than do their infantile counterparts in the third world country of botswana. my city. in america. the country currently consuming 70% of the worlds resources. higher infant mortality rate than botswana?
i was blessed to share hearts with my dear friend chelsea last night after we watched the highly abbreviated episode of the biggest loser. we figured instead of listening to obama’s plans to bring change or hope or whatever he’s bringing now, we would just talk about how we thought God may be calling us to actually do the same.
so today i am left confronted by my own failures to keep the simplest of my Lord’s commands; questioning what kind of arrogant and blindly wealthy society i participate in that would so flippantly allow an infant to die every other day; and stirring over the thoughts God seeded in my mind over good conversation.
on sunday jason preached on suffering. i know and understand little to nothing of suffering, but i beg the Lord to break my heart. jason pointed out that instead of asking God the “why’s” of suffering, instead to ask “what now?” to reimagine our dreams for tomorrow in light of suffering. this mixes into the stew i’m already stirring in my mind.
and then i see in the eyes and hearts of the kids in the neighborhood an insatiable desire to know more about this God who loves without limit and is faithful to even the most unbelievable promise. i watch as eleven-year-old boys perch anxiously on the edge of the couch to hear how God unfolds his promise of making a great nation out of childless abraham and barren sarah. i listed to the voice of a seven-year old sing out songs of love to the God who so deeply desires after her.
the utter calamity of sin and brokeness meet with the supreme hope of redemption on my horizon line today, and at the meeting of the fronts a storm is stirring. maybe soon i’ll figure out how to pour out the waters of thought that lay sleeping in those clouds.
unfortunately it seems i have all my best thoughts for songs or poems, art or writing while either on the treadmill or in the shower. such an inconvenience.
the clouds of thought and heartbreak and hope are brewing. they’re stewing. stirring, and ready to pour out.
but not yet.