I sat in the ashes with the broken pieces of what I thought would bring me happiness and fulfillment. By shattering my greatest dream in this period of my life, God shattered my heart, but not with the intent to destroy it. He aimed to mend it and re-direct it. Every shattered piece, every debris, needed to be cleaned, re-shaped, and then put together again by the God of restoration.
Over the years I’ve enjoyed various exercise classes at our local gym, but the barrage of self-focused motivations makes me cringe. Is this really what it’s all about? Working out in order to have a beach-ready body? In order to feel good about ourselves in a bikini? No: we need to remember that as believers, it’s not about us. And this is hugely liberating!
When life gets messy, at times it can feel like our Messiah has gone missing. That’s exactly the kind of situation we find the disciples in as we read Mark 6. Right after the feeding of the five thousand, they got in a boat, and strong winds caused the water to get very rough. The disciples were straining at the oars as the realities of life beat against them.
Although she assured me she liked it in the home in which she now resided, I could see it. I saw it in the way tears welled up as we visited. I saw it in her faraway look as she talked about the past. This dear old friend grieved the passing of the years. She missed the house she called home for so long. She missed attending church. She missed hanging with family and friends. She missed her independence.
As I rushed out the door, I slung my purse over my shoulder with my phone tucked under my chin, struggling to pull the sleeve of my jacket over my arm. I was running late, again, throwing up a quick prayer to God that He would part the Red Sea of traffic so I might still make my class on time.