Updates and Other Things

Ah, God is good.
All the time.

Even when the world is upside down and backwards, especially when the world is upside down and backwards.

My family member who was in the hospital for mental instability is home, and the medication is working better than any of us could have dreamed. Tears are flowing, but this time of thanks, of gratitude, of being undone by His work. This is a chance at a real life for them, this is a chance for life and life more abundantly, for He came, and comes to bring life and not just life which is precious enough when you consider that we were all dead in our sins, but life abundant here on earth, and life everlasting with Him. Gloria a Dios. Somehow that seems more fitting than saying it English, maybe because I remember with great affection the passionate way the Christians in Argentina said it, with all their life and breath and heart behind the words. I am so very grateful, for so many things but for that work in particular.

I am also very weary.

More doctors, more tests, more needles and more lab work for me, not for them. This body of mine, this earth suit that the immortal me wears is hurting. It's not the Designer's fault, see we (that would be all of us) decided that we didn't need Him, and because of that a fatal flaw worked itself into the warp and weave of the suit. It's not immortal, it's decaying around the immortal soul that lives and dwells within it and right now, it's actually attacking itself and undoing the warp and weave at a faster pace than it should. And, because the immortal and the mortal are bound together, I'm hurting.

I'm tired of the dead ends, of the judgments, of the humiliation, and because I am so very tired of it all, I want to hide.

You know, hide?

Oh to be four again and certain that a fort of sheets made me invisible or for a crabapple tree with gnarled branches that could scoop me up and hold me and hide me at the same time.

I don't have bed sheets, or a crabapple tree, but I did find this. And so I'm hiding, I'm hiding in Christ, and hiding in this old hymn.

O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.

George Matheson