Thursday, October 14, 2010


Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by heart and his friends can only read the title. ~Virginia Woolf

The past is complicated.

There's only so much about the past that we actually want to dwell on; but even then, those few bits and pieces are tricky to deal with at times.

How many of us look back over our lives and wish that we had done things differently?

How often are our hearts flooded with "what if..."s and second guesses?

Is this why the idea of time travel is so appealing?

The idea that maybe...just maybe...we could leap through the threads of time and make a different choice...

For some people, the idea is intoxicating. For others, the idea has never even entered their minds.

It's all in how you look at it, I suppose.

The past is part of who we are. It's the stones that make up the road that we have passed over in our journey of existence.

Those old relationships...those moments we wish we could take back...those choices we desperately wish to's all part of the masterplan, set in motion by the One who holds our past and future in His hands.

Is it always easy to look back?


Are there times we catch ourselves standing on that cliff, looking over the mist-shrouded mountains of our future, and find our gaze drifting backwards to glimpse the past moments?


Is the past important? More than we will ever know. It's what got us here.

The past is the tool of God to move us forward...



...inward...'s not perfect.

But it is precious.

Many, O LORD my God, are the wonders you have done. The things you planned for us no one can recount to you; were I to speak and tell of them, they would be too many to declare. ~Psalm 40:5

Wednesday, October 13, 2010


So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. ~Isaiah 41:10

Recently, I spent the day with my family in a small, picturesque town. We spent the day wandering up and down the quaint shop-lined sidewalks, popping into those stores that caught our eyes and spending more money than we should have.

Also, we walked. A lot. By the time 2:00pm rolled around, my feet (clad, of course, in my extremely worn out sandals that make those around me shake their heads) had reached their limit.

As I sat on a wrought-iron parkbench placed conveniently on a street corner, I took advantage of my resting place and began to consider the people that were passing along the sidewalk on their own individual journeys.
My brain and my heart began to work together to invent a strange sort of inspiration for my ever-active mind to ponder.

I started to contemplate my own heart's journey. Where had I been? Where was I going? And what sort of steps would I need to take to get to my final destination -- wherever that might be, in the long run?

I allowed myself to drift back in time -- back to those early teen years that, at times, I would just as soon forget.

I remembered my Freshman year of High School, and the dark place of despair and isolation in which my heart had chosen to lodge.

I remembered the successive years -- the journey that God and I had taken together. I remember those nights that I would stand beneath the midnight sky: no canopy save the celestial lights that passed their silent way above my head, and no companion except the One who heard the silent wailing of my broken heart.

The more I thought above these times in my life, and the years that followed, the more I realized that my travels had not been in vain. In fact, no matter how much I wished to forget those times and pretend that they had never been part of my life's story, it would be nothing if not foolish.

For, no matter how painful and devastating those moments had been, they had been vital measures in the complicated and continuous score that compiles the symphony of my life. They were the path, laid before my tired feet.

My journey is not over. I have no doubt that the road ahead of me is filled with potholes, tripwires, and roaring lions. I know that the Valley of the Shadow of Death lies before and behind me.

However, I also know that I have a Guide and a King who is greater and bigger than any of those obstacles that may lie in my path. My feet are covered in the shoes of His peace, and I have been given a map straight from His heart. way is secure. destination is sure.

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. ~Isaiah 43:2-3

Tuesday, October 5, 2010


"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace."
~Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Time is a strange master.

It is one of things that we as mere mortals cannot fully understand or comprehend.

There is a time for everything.

This reality has come harshly into the light for me in recent days. A week ago today, I found myself weeping as though my heart would shatter.

I had reached a point where one of the few solid things in my life had just been shaken to the core; I was falling like Alice down a strange sort of rabbit hole, and I had no idea when or where I would land.

I was, quite literally, lost.

My emotions were scattered across the map.

I was scared to death. My heart held a momentary burst of anger, which then melted into a sheer, rich sorrow.

And then loneliness.

And then...

...a strange, echoing silence.

It took me all of 24 hours to reach a strange new sort of reality.

This new existence -- however brief or momentary in the long run -- wasn't wrong. In fact, it was a long time in coming.

I'm not saying that I was suddenly okay with this sudden separation...the time had just arrived for a "severing," of sorts -- for such a resounding shaking of my so-called security in this particular aspect of my life that would leave me NO OTHER CHOICE but to run to my God.

And I did.

I promise, I do have a point to these seemingly random and disconnected ramblings.

There is a time for everything.

Sometimes, it takes a sharp severing -- an uprooting of a deep-set root -- for the beauty to have room to grow.

Sometimes, we need to just let go.

There is a time for everything. The hands of the clock are carefully moved by the unseen Hand of an Almighty God.

Time is not strange or alarming to God; it's an essential ingredient, a necessary fuel to His refining fire that burns away the impurities and leaves us grasping for Him alone.

The times, situations, and moments of our lives are not out of control.

They are not just whisperings of ideas cast about by the Fates or some unseen collection of deities with nothing better to do than meddle with the lives of mankind.

Our times are secure.

Because He is faithful...

..and He has a time for everything.

"You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in You." ~Isaiah 26:3