humbly constructed
I sit here in a plastic chair, designed for a child. My luxurious bottom barely fits. Trying to conceal my discomfort, I see that beneath my feet are stones and shells of various sizes, reminiscent of a beach and yet not. The floor is an insipid gray blend of dirt and sand, uneven in everyway. Hand laid crooked concrete blocks construct the walls, hardly grasping clumpy mortar between their crevices. Light peers through large gaps in the wall just enough to cast shadows of the steel rods that poke this way and that. It’s a dangerous place but no one seems to notice. There’s an infrequent soft breeze that brushes my hair into my face. I move it away and see a group of meager followers bow their heads as someone prays in Tagalong. I can’t understand all of what is said, but it is clear they are genuine. I look back at the entryway and observe that some of the thatch roof has blown away a
nd there is greater exposure to the outside than previous visits. A rotating fan swishes in my direction as I notice that someone has hung cloth just behind me where the sun seeks to express herself. I lean over to help Darrell find Matthew 25. He is 9 and when he looks at me, I melt. I instantly love being near him. The passage is the parable of the talents and his index finger does not grow tired as he follows along. This is church.
There seems to be something sacred about this setting despite its humble construction. I whisper to myself, God is here.
I wonder why we get so frustrated with church back home and I realize that I don’t have the answers. I do know that sitting here in this tiny chair makes me think that church is really people meeting with God. It feels simple.
looking back, looking ahead
“But you will not leave in haste or go in flight; for the Lord will go before you.”
Isaiah 52:12
After reflecting on the past year I’ve seen where God was with me and allowed me to genuinely lean on him. I’ll not tire you with the specifics; our lives always seem more fanciful within our own myopic view, but I will say that when I think of 2006, I’m reminded of a simple image. I consider the purpose of a chair and how while you sit on it, you fully trust that it will uphold you. When I lean against the back of it, I feel secure. Though I twist and turn through various life circumstances, relationships, or struggles or whether I get up and stand behind it, or perhaps in front of it, it never seizes to be there waiting for me to return to it and its purpose is constant. God is not unlike this. He is there for me and has been there this past year.
“The Lord your God in your midst, the Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, he will rejoice over you with singing.”
Zephaniah 3:17 
It’s hard to believe that the creator of the universe has time to rejoice over me with singing. I really like this picture though. And I certainly enjoy it when people sing for me although I can’t recall all too many times when someone has. The oddity is that since being here, I’ve noticed I sing more freely. This is something I can’t explain, except that maybe it’s because the karaoke here is so profoundly horrific that I’m not as intimidated. But conceivably it reasons to stand as a simple sign of joy sneaking its way into my life. So to think that God is pleased with me and wants to sing over me, is a foreign concept but nonetheless delightful.
The growth that has occurred this year is mostly personal. I felt there were questions I longed to find answers to and they came eventually, growing in due season. I guess what I mean to say is that after reflecting; its clear there’s a lot that’s incomplete and consequently several more questions to ask. I can see where my world view is very much naïve and though there has been a good deal of self discovery (and there continues to be) I see my weakness in God and in my unmatured dreams. Perhaps the latter is due to lack of faith in Him, that in myself, or perchance the combination of the two.
“So do not fear, for I am with you; Do not be dismayed for I am your God I will strengthen you and I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10
I habitually think I’m remembering the particulars of life as I go, but it’s not until I sit down and rest, leaning all my worries on something else, or Someone else and ponder through the highs and lows, struggles and gains, that I expand my perspective of where I’ve come from and where I’m heading. Overall as I look back at my life, if I look close enough, I can see among the greenery there are weeds. As I thought and prayed about the coming year, I become conscious again that it is a gift to have dreams and it is equally beneficial to see the barriers of life that have kept me from them. For me, I believe one major obstacle has been fear. Despite this as I run wildly into this New Year I feel a sense expectation. This is very much unlike me. I normally feel sad that another year is gone and we’re all getting older, but this year feels different. All that to say, I want to live and thrive, to not waste days, to be quick to fall in love with life, to trust that God goes before me, to be lost in the wonder that He is always with me, to not loose heart, to rely on His strength with an authentic reliance and to lean on Him as He upholds me.
I sit here in a plastic chair, designed for a child. My luxurious bottom barely fits. Trying to conceal my discomfort, I see that beneath my feet are stones and shells of various sizes, reminiscent of a beach and yet not. The floor is an insipid gray blend of dirt and sand, uneven in everyway. Hand laid crooked concrete blocks construct the walls, hardly grasping clumpy mortar between their crevices. Light peers through large gaps in the wall just enough to cast shadows of the steel rods that poke this way and that. It’s a dangerous place but no one seems to notice. There’s an infrequent soft breeze that brushes my hair into my face. I move it away and see a group of meager followers bow their heads as someone prays in Tagalong. I can’t understand all of what is said, but it is clear they are genuine. I look back at the entryway and observe that some of the thatch roof has blown away a
nd there is greater exposure to the outside than previous visits. A rotating fan swishes in my direction as I notice that someone has hung cloth just behind me where the sun seeks to express herself. I lean over to help Darrell find Matthew 25. He is 9 and when he looks at me, I melt. I instantly love being near him. The passage is the parable of the talents and his index finger does not grow tired as he follows along. This is church.
