GLORIOUS DAILY LIFE

I write the date in my journal. January 21, ’16. I stare at the apostrophe before 16 and rub my eyes. 16 years in this millennia already, and life goes on as always. I remember when Y2K seemed the abyss of the unknown in front of us, and we expected computers to crash and and therefore bank systems to implode; we expected the domino effect of the apocalypse to begin then. And maybe it did.

But staring at the previous pages in my journal, scribbled in all colors and moods and places I’ve been, what I see is just the mosaic of daily life as its been lived throughout the pages of history.

Mine is a voice in the chorus of countless mothers praying for their children and grandchildren, shepherds for their sheep, friends for their friends.

Wars have trampled over us with iron boots, historic battles lost and won by the blood of our sons. Inventions promised our mothers easier lives, but we are as stressed as ever. But under the umbrella of mega events, life is just – daily.

Im turning fifty this year.

Like rings on a tree, the face looking back at me in the mirror is lined by winters I thought would kill me and summers of celebration. But mostly, the seasons in between have pulled age like a film over the face I remember from photos before Facebook.

Unlike the culture obsessed with youth, I’m grateful to be at this stage in life. Those wrinkles testify of sleepless nights from babies and worries and belly-hurting laughter from unexpected joys and mind boggling absurdities and memories I can’t remember. I don’t want to airbrush away the hard-earned scars of life.

As much as it cost me, it cost Him more.

In my visible age I see with increasing clarity the mercy of my invisible Hero. The more my kids insist that my hearing is deteriorating, the more clearly I hear the songs He sang over me.

Those trembling nights when my man and I held each other awhile our business collapsed or our son was desperately sick or my mother died, the roaring fires of fear and grief and regret surging through us, I did feel His cooling breath whispering lullabies to my soul, until my body relaxed under His watchful eye.

When my legs buckled under me, and they did, and they do, He didn’t allow me yield to my weakness, but coached me with appropriate volume, “Just one more step.” “You promised me your best.” “Just keep going, keep going.”

My phone is lighting up with agonized pleas for prayer and sweet shared victories from those, with whom I’m so privileged to huddle up closely while a storm is tearing through all of our lives.

I’m not naive. I know the cost of the path we’ve chosen.

I know we are burning our candles from both ends. “Nevertheless I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep what I have committed to Him until that Day.” (2 Timothy 1:12)

Back to back with my people, facing the giants together, I know this, and we are still standing.

The next page in my journal is blank.

If I could write my life ahead, it would be in blood-red fiery letters:
Remember whom you have believed, who has carried you through fires and floods already. His Spirit is coursing through your veins and His love through your longings and dreams.

Cast off the worry and doubt that shackle your soul and run free. You don’t have to wonder what the blueprint for your life is; He already told you: Love. Love! LOVE!!!

Yes, the details will overwhelm you and torrential obstacles engulf you. Yes, your lungs will burn and your heart will rip and pain will be your faithful companion. But so will grace.

This is the only life you were made for: the whole-hearted, full-blooded, no filter adventure that moves heaven and earth for the glorious cause, right here, on the pages of daily life.

“It is God who arms me with strength,
And makes my way perfect.
He makes my feet like the feet of deer,
And sets me on my high places.
He teaches my hands to make war,
So that my arms can bend a bow of bronze.
You have also given me the shield of Your salvation;
Your right hand has held me up,
Your gentleness has made me great.
You enlarged my path under me,
So my feet did not slip.”
(Psalms 18:32-36)