reflections on the unseen world

This morning, shortly after I arrived at work, I checked one of the blogs I read regularly, The Rabbit Room. I read a speech that Andrew Peterson gave at a Baccalaureate service this spring, and it knocked the wind out of me. He put to words a lot of the things I've been struggling with lately, mostly grace. I feel like the last few weeks have been a long series of mess-ups, most not necessarily noticeable to the naked eye. But inside my spirit, I've been struggling. I've been struggling with obedience, with patience, with my heart. I've felt more burdened by my sin than normal, desperate for more of God and less of me, yet so overwhelmed by the busyness and distractions of life that my times with Him have been brief and shallow.

So I read this speech this morning, and it really hit me. I found it so difficult to focus on my job after having been so blessed with such a lovely portrait of God's grace and love, even amidst my brokenness... because of my brokenness.

My new favorite song these days is by Ben Shive, and it's called "Nothing for the Ache". Everytime I hear it I am struck to my core. The climax of the song gives me goosebumps:

How my heart is bleeding
I cry with every beating
Tell me why are we born with these souls inside
That burst and break us open?
Why

If there's nothing for the ache
No healing for a heart that's bound to break
And no lover when you lie in bed awake
And not a hand to hold you

With a word that won't deceive
To bring you in and meet this burning need
In the haven of a love that never leaves
In all your dreams
You were only falling in the arms of God

So all morning I was thinking about the unseen world and how small my heart is to even begin to comprehend all that God is, and all that he is doing. I planned to write all about it this afternoon. I was going to write about Tom and Jenn's wedding this past Saturday. I was going to write about my trip to Adventureland with Beth, Charlotte, Ann, Matt and Justin. I was going to write about how this summer has stripped me bare, but also blessed me in more ways than I ever thought possible.

Then, around lunchtime, my mom called me. I could sense in her tone that something was wrong. My grandpa passed away.

So now I find myself writing a completely different blog post than I had originally planned. I'm still contemplating eternity and the unseen world, but right now I'm looking at it with a much more somber perspective. It's hitting a lot closer to home.

I am sad. I'm sitting right now in the dark, with a thunderstorm raging outside, and I am sad. I am sad that I haven't even seen Grandpa for a year and a half. Tauna and I were/are planning a trip to Cleveland in August, and this week I was planning to email him with our itinerary. I was looking forward to seeing him. I'm sad that I'll never get to have one of our phone conversations of "20 questions" again. When we talked on the phone, he'd fire off question after question, giving me very little time to answer any of them. They were always so random, too. After a conversation this spring, I was going to make a list of all of the questions he asked, but then life got busy and I never did. I'm really sorry about that now. I'm sorry about a lot of things.

I liked how Andrew Peterson continued to mention that verse, "There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus," in that speech. Regrets are good to learn from, but I need to be careful not to let them destroy me, either. God's grace is the most powerful when it's accepted.

So now, with a full and heavy heart, I need to go to bed and get some rest. I'm heading back to Iowa tomorrow, and then we'll all be off to Ohio for a few days. This is not what I thought my summer vacation would look like.

Last night, as Beth and I drove to Bellevue for our Monday night dinner, the Jill Phillips song "Grand Design" was playing, and Beth and I were singing it at the top of our lungs, comforted by the sheer power and goodness of God in light of what has been an incredibly challenging summer. I've heard this song many times, but last night I felt a little funny when I listened to it. Now I know why:

I knew it all along that this day was coming
Even though I knew it doesn't hurt any less
But somehow the suffering draws me to You
I could start running in anger
But then what's the point of a Savior

I feel the pain but it still doesn’t change who You are
Nothing I feel is outside of the reach of Your arms
My whole world could crumble but all of the pieces remain
In Your hands that are waiting to put them together again