foggy tug-a-war
"We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees it, knowing Him directly as He knows us." 1 Corinthians 13:12 MSG
Yesterday I wrote that I was thankful for my finite mind. Thankful for not knowing what is going to happen next. As quickly as I wrote those words and later reread them I want to take them back. I want to change my mind. I really don't want to be thankful for not knowing what is happening next. Even though I know I should. Even though I know I must be. Even though I know I honestly really am. Even if it is scarier knowing what's behind the foggy covering of my future, at this point, anything seems better than where I stand at this exact moment.
Uncertainties. Blech.
2015 looks foggy. I have no idea what is to come. I want hope. I really want hope. But when things are so dark, enveloped, hidden that they appear to not actually be there at all. Well, it's hard. Dang it. It's hard to be hopeful when real life seems to be taking control.
This morning my emotions are kicking and screaming. Pitching an absolute temper tantrum. Let me state the obvious, huh? Ha! Course it only seems fitting that I would be under attack today since yesterday I made a proclamation that I was approaching 2015 with hope. Ever since I wrote those words and shared them with others I feel like the devil has been out to rob me of them.
"The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy." John 10:10a NKJV
I feel like I am in a complete tug-a-war with that rascal this morning. Feet dug in wet mushy grass, sloppy mud slung up my arms from the rope wrapped tight in twisted loops around my forearms and my body's muscles burning like fire. Intense heat. We are battling against each other for my joy and my hope.
This is why that lousy liar won't win though, Jesus says in the second half of the verse:
"I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly."
Well then. Despite this tug-a-war for hope, this, this foggy shadowing, this hidden future, these eyes blinded, could this be my abundant life?
I think yes. Ugh. I don't want to think yes. But unfortunately pretending doesn't change the truth of the matter. My life is abundant. Just not necessarily abundant with unicorns and fairy princesses.
"No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us." Romans 8:37 NLT
Hallelujah! Victory is mine. NOTHING cannot steal away my hope in Jesus. I suppose I will slip and slide a little. May even take a tumble down in that sloshy, mucky grass on my rear. My muscles are more than certain to continue to burn hot in pain. And that rope I am holding tight to will more likely than not rub burns on my forearms and blisters on my hands. But I will win through Christ, and I will gain strength in the fight.
But what about this fog I am left squinting into even after the victory is won? All those blasted unknowns?
One of my most favorite things about living in the Eastern Highlands is also one of my least favorite things. Here's a visual.
Yesterday I wrote that I was thankful for my finite mind. Thankful for not knowing what is going to happen next. As quickly as I wrote those words and later reread them I want to take them back. I want to change my mind. I really don't want to be thankful for not knowing what is happening next. Even though I know I should. Even though I know I must be. Even though I know I honestly really am. Even if it is scarier knowing what's behind the foggy covering of my future, at this point, anything seems better than where I stand at this exact moment.
Uncertainties. Blech.
2015 looks foggy. I have no idea what is to come. I want hope. I really want hope. But when things are so dark, enveloped, hidden that they appear to not actually be there at all. Well, it's hard. Dang it. It's hard to be hopeful when real life seems to be taking control.
This morning my emotions are kicking and screaming. Pitching an absolute temper tantrum. Let me state the obvious, huh? Ha! Course it only seems fitting that I would be under attack today since yesterday I made a proclamation that I was approaching 2015 with hope. Ever since I wrote those words and shared them with others I feel like the devil has been out to rob me of them.
"The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy." John 10:10a NKJV
I feel like I am in a complete tug-a-war with that rascal this morning. Feet dug in wet mushy grass, sloppy mud slung up my arms from the rope wrapped tight in twisted loops around my forearms and my body's muscles burning like fire. Intense heat. We are battling against each other for my joy and my hope.
This is why that lousy liar won't win though, Jesus says in the second half of the verse:
"I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly."
Well then. Despite this tug-a-war for hope, this, this foggy shadowing, this hidden future, these eyes blinded, could this be my abundant life?
I think yes. Ugh. I don't want to think yes. But unfortunately pretending doesn't change the truth of the matter. My life is abundant. Just not necessarily abundant with unicorns and fairy princesses.
"No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us." Romans 8:37 NLT
Hallelujah! Victory is mine. NOTHING cannot steal away my hope in Jesus. I suppose I will slip and slide a little. May even take a tumble down in that sloshy, mucky grass on my rear. My muscles are more than certain to continue to burn hot in pain. And that rope I am holding tight to will more likely than not rub burns on my forearms and blisters on my hands. But I will win through Christ, and I will gain strength in the fight.
But what about this fog I am left squinting into even after the victory is won? All those blasted unknowns?
One of my most favorite things about living in the Eastern Highlands is also one of my least favorite things. Here's a visual.
Fog. Isn't that stunning? When we first arrived in PNG a little girl in Jade's class explained that when you wake up to really thick fog like this that by late morning or early afternoon it will lift completely and the day will be bright and sunshiny. I found her young interpretation of Ukarumpa's weather to be spot on (most of the time). From the mouth of babes!
All life's uncertainties feel dense and smothering today. I am waiting for those heavy, low clouds to lift. From where I stand in the midst of this, some where way down deep in that muddy valley, I can't yet see glimpses of the sun breaking through. Those mountain tops are still hidden. Even the tree tops in my line of sight appear to just not be there. (Course they most likely still are.)
And that can complicate things.
Where we live in the Eastern Highlands of Papua New Guinea this is our reality for a large part of the year. In dry season no less (no four seasons - of either variety - in Ukarumpa; just wet season and dry season and a missionary guesthouse for your hotel accommodation needs). Go figure, huh? When the rainfall amounts are sparse to nonexistent, these dreary skies persist. And when you rely on the only quick exit outta the highlands being via this plane or one of his three friends just like him, well that can put you in a pickle.
I feel like I am in a pickle too. I wanna escape. I am in need of a medivac rescue flight, up, above and beyond some of my very dire current realities. Blerk.
So I run to Him. To His Word. Sloshing in the mud and gunk and mess of it all...
"But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength. They will soar HIGH" Isaiah 40:31 NLT
High above the fog. That is where He promises to take me.
I think I may know some of what lies behind those clouds. Hidden. But what I do know for certain is that the love of the God that formed those mountains cannot be moved. His love will remain.
"'For the mountains may move and the hills disappear, but even then My faithful love for you will remain. My covenant of blessing will never be broken,' says the Lord who has mercy on you." Isaiah 54:10 NLT
There are all sorts of different foggy mornings and evenings in Ukarumpa. Sometimes they look like this:
(This picture was taken by Susan Frey. She's quite the talented photographer. Check out her blog sometime!)
This sorta fog blinds you when you look into it. It can even blind you as you try to look away from it. Have you seen this kind? My fog feels like this too. Blinding me from seeing anything. This sort of fog takes over. Right now everything in my life is reflecting the unknown. This fog sinks in. You can watch it take over.
What's glorious about this type of fog though? Even as it blinds you, it is visually melted (for lack of better words) by the sun. The SON.
"Jesus spoke to the people once more and said, 'I am the light of the world.'" John 8:12 NLT
So I suppose what it boils down to is this. These bright, intense, all encompassing clouds cannot hide Him. Or His love. The actually reflect Him. Bring glory to Him.
"O Lord my God, how great You are! You are robed with honor and majesty. You are dressed in a robe of light... You make the clouds Your chariot." Psalm 104:1-3 NLT
The fight for my hope will make me stronger.
The victory is mine in Jesus.
God will be glorified in the unknown.
Eventually, the fog may even lift a little. Oh wait... yep, it will lift.
"We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees it, knowing Him directly as He knows us." 1 Corinthians 13:12 MSG
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