a new map of the world.

looking for the future.

I don’t appreciate winter. I know I have lost all love for the season; perhaps as turn of opinion that comes with age, or the fact that I find myself struggling against it almost on a daily basis. I stood on my porch this morning and watch the dawning sun peek over a far crop of oak and gum trees (not bubble gum, mind you, but a tree in the south known for little prickly balls and a wood that will easily binds up any saw). If I took a moment to minimize the traffic on the road, the houses around my clambering for noise, and my own busy schedule, I think I could see something I haven’t noticed for some time – sleep.

We are busy. Nature is asleep. We complain of meetings and lines and people we meet in town, while the world around is asleep.

The grass that stretches over the field before my home filled with dew cloaked grass frozen by the night and transformed into a reflecting pool of stolen rays of the red sun – the hill giving up its fog, almost as a sigh in its sleep in this light. Oddly the scene takes me back into my own life and my own past. Despite the tragedy of that September, the autumn of 2001 has become one of the fondest. It could have been the trip my family took across the country. I remember warm afternoons under the canopy of the redwoods in California and the deep azure skies of a crisp Oregon morning – getting lost deep in the forests of the high desert.

What is we would long as deeply as we ache?

Maybe there is a better way of stating the question, or maybe it is a question meant only for me. So often we long for the good-old-days – to be children excited to greet the day, but the future before is hidden in the shroud of the present. As though looking over a beautiful city through a pane of glass, we cannot see the future without catching the dimmest reflection of ourselves cast back. At this cast down, we become very discouraged to believe the world can ever be made right again – and it cannot.

As a disciple of Christ I can only begin to grow into this queue of nature to which the Bible references again and again. The world can fall into winter’s sleep as it rests safe in the hand of God – I too, ought rest in this same care to trust a world more beautiful when I wake. I rest in the work of my hands, my relationships, and my life because I rest in His hands. The feeling of stress that I must work harder to provide better can only be mastered when I temper it to the One for whom I work. I have never been unloved.

I advocate hard work. I advocate dirty hands. I want to crawl into bed a little tired at the end of the night. I want to be spent. But until I let go of being so short sighted as to long only for the past, or only for the far future, for the short-term ‘fruit of my labor’, I can never know the rest of His sufficiency that promises my provision and that I will never give away anything that will not one day be returned to me – perfected.

Nature sleeps. I rest. He is good.
It is enough to make my avarice heart content.

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