Fingerprints of God

Have you ever noticed how God's world is full of his fingerprints?

There are spiritual analogies all around us, if only we have eyes to see them.  Glimpses of the King.  Take a butterfly, for instance -- the process of metamorphosis has long been used as a metaphor for spiritual rebirth.

And I've found a lot of God's fingerprints on a liver-chestnut gelding named Raphi.  He's taught me a lot of lessons, this giant of a horse with a tender heart.

1. The world is a scary place, but there is someone in charge I can trust.  To Raphi, who is a prey animal instinctively used to being hunted, the world is full of danger.  He notices everything and his natural response is to be afraid and run away.  But Raphi is learning to trust me, and the more he learns to trust me, the braver he gets.  That big scary umbrella that might be a horse-eating monster?  I'm not scared of it, so he learns not to be scared of it, either.  He will go past the clump of rustling bushes if I ask him to, even if he is scared, because he trusts that either the rustling isn't a mountain lion ready to pounce, or if it is, I'm strong enough to fight off the mountain lion and keep him safe.  He keeps his eyes focused on me, and he moves forward in a scary world.
2. Life is a lot less stressful if I can be content with who I am.  Horses are herd animals.  There are a leader and followers.  So long as one horse is the clear leader, the herd is peaceful.  But when another horse tries to rise up through the ranks, watch out!  Hooves and teeth fly!  Raphi is at the bottom of the pecking order in his herd, and he's ok with that.  He knows he's not a leader.  He doesn't try to be something he's not.  He stands back and eats hay while the other horses chase each other away from the hay.  He stays out of their spats, so while the others have their share of nips, bumps, and scrapes, Raphi's coat is completely unmarked.  They spend a lot of energy jockeying for position; Raphi stands in the sun and soaks up the warmth.  He is content with his lot in life, and his life is way less complicated as a result.
3. Sometimes I just need to hang my head and brace against the storm.  Unless the weather is really bad, Raphi and the other horses are outside all the time.  He grows a massive thick winter coat that few winds can penetrate, and few rain or snowstorms can soak through.  He has plenty of shelter readily available, but he chooses to stand outside in the teeth of the weather.  The water streams off him, and he looks miserable, but underneath that dripping wet outer coat, his fur is warm and dry.  He just stands firm, facing the storm, looking miserable but staying warm and safe on the inside, waiting for the storm to blow over. 
4. Little problems can cause a giant to stumble.  Raphi recently picked up a nail in his foot.  A tiny nail, especially when you compare it to his 1500 lb bulk.  It penetrated the hoof and he could hardly walk.  Once the nail was removed, it still took time for the hole and the bruising to heal over.  Raphi walked with a limp for quite a while.  Such a small thing.  Just one little nail.  What's the big deal?  Yet it  crippled him. 

Lessons I learn from a horse.  Places where God whispers to me, "Do you see that?  Do you see how I created him?  Do you see me?   When the world is scary, do you trust me?  Can you learn to be content with who you are?  Do you trust that I have equipped you to weather the storms?  Do you take the small stuff seriously?  Do you see him?  Do you see me?"

Fingerprints of God.

Holes

Abba, I want to go where you want me to go.

I want to be in,

Both feet in.

You know it.

So why is it so hard?

My heart aches.

A dull, hollow longing that is

Never

Quite

Filled.

Is it you I am aching for?

I know you, Lord.

I know you love me.

I know you are in control.

They’re not just words on a page.

I know them in my heart.

But still, my heart cries

Over a foggy future

And unfinished plans

And dreams that turn to dust.

Are you then not enough?

Am I so selfish, so shallow

That even though I know you, I still want more?

Would the ache abate if I just knew,

Really knew

That your grace is enough?

Am I wrong to long?

To long for a bright future for your service,

For plans seen through,

For God-given dreams fulfilled?

Aren’t those good things?

And the biggest ache is that it all goes wrong

When I follow you, Lord.

This pain is part of jumping in with both feet.

When you see me trying to follow you,

Why does it not work out?

Why does it seem that the dream

Turns to dust?

Why does following you sometimes make my heart ache so desperately,

That I look with longing eyes to the days

When my feet were still dry?

Abba, I feel so small.

I want you.  I long for you.  I ache to know you,

And I do.

Still I long for other things,

Things that are good

But not best.

Where is my faith when I want to go back?

My faith is here.  It is in the pain.

I will not let go.

I will not turn back.

But I cannot hide the hurt.

I have Jesus but I cannot see forward.

I have Jesus but my plans lay in ruins.

I have Jesus but my dreams are unfulfilled.

I have Jesus, and my heart beats painfully

Over the cracks and holes of what I do not have

And long for.

But my faith is here, in the pain, urging me over the holes.

Abba, I want to go where you want me to go.

I want to be in,

Both feet in.

You know it.

But sometimes

It really 

Hurts.

"All this happened to us, though we had not forgotten you or been false to your covenant. Our hearts had not turned back; our feet had not strayed from your path. But you crushed us . . . .  Awake, O Lord! Rise up and help us; redeem us because of your unfailing love."

Psalm 44:17-19, 23, 26

Fighting the "Borg"

I will admit it:  I have watched Star Trek.

The Klingons were bad, but the Borg are even worse -- a swarm of fearsome machine-men united by a single ruthless mind.  Every drone knows the thoughts of every other drone.  They mutate and adapt to attack with bewildering speed.  Enemies are swallowed up.  Their mantra:  "Resistance is futile.  Prepare to be assimilated.  We are Borg."  Borg is the ultimate melting pot.  "I" no longer exist; there is only "we".

Sometimes this world feels like the Borg.  And sometimes things happen that bring me up short, and make me realise how perilously close I am coming to being assimilated.  Today was a day like that.

For the first time in my life, I applied for EI.

I felt like a loser.  I felt like a failure.  I felt embarrassed and ashamed.  I felt like a shiftless bum depending on the charity of honest, hardworking people to support me while I sit at home on my backside drinking coffee ('cause that's the hardest stuff I'll drink) and twiddling my thumbs.   Worry is close at hand -- I should be out there, doing something, doing anything to earn a living rather than drawing EI.

But why?  Why do I feel that way when I know that I've paid into EI for years, when I know that it is through no fault of my own that I am now in a positon to have to draw it, and when I know that I'm anything but a shiftless bum, and am certainly not sitting at home twiddling my thumbs, waiting for the world to support me (although I do love my cup of coffee)?  Why do I worry when I know God will uphold me?

Because everything I see and hear around me tells me differently.  The world says that success is measured by wealth.  Value is defined by how much money I can earn.  If I am not doing something that makes money, I have no value.  If I have no wealth, I am a failure.  I should be embarrassed by my lack of funds.  Everyone wants to be rich, and if I deny it, I am a liar.  If I have lots of money I'll be free and happy; without it, I will be miserable.  Accepting "charity" is a sign of weakness and a total lack of pride.  That's what I see all around me.  That's what I hear from the radio, TV, billboards, newspapers, magazines, and the thousands of other voices that vie for my time and attention.  And I begin to believe it, without even realising it.  If I didn't believe it at some level, I wouldn't feel the things I am feeling.  I wouldn't give it a second thought.  But the value system of the world creeps into my heart and soul and I don't even realise it's happening until I find myself responding according to those worldly values rather than the values I consiously profess to believe.

Resistance is futile.  We are Borg.  Prepare to be assimilated.

But I don't want to be assimilated.  I do not want to become part of the value system of the world.  Because when I confront it squarely, I realise that the value system of this world stands diametrically opposed to the values of the upside-down kingdom of God which is my heart's deepest longing.

So I will resist.

I am valued because I am purchased by the blood of Christ.
I am free -- totally free -- in him.
I am a success when I become a more accurate reflection of who he is.
My deepest longing is to be rich in Christ, not in the things of this world.
I consider it all rubbish compared to the surpassing greatness and joy of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.
Jesus tells me not to worry about food or drink or the body, because he knows my needs, and he will provide.  I am to seek first his kingdom, and his righteousness.  I will take those words seriously and accept his provision humbly.
If I die a pauper in the eyes of the world, and stand before Jesus to hear him say, "Well done, good and faithful servant," it will be a life well-lived.

For the first time in my life, I applied for EI.  And I am grateful.  Grateful that it is there, because as little as it is, it is something.  But mostly grateful because it caused me to see where I was slipping into the values of the world and to recommit myself to the values of the King.

I am fighting the "Borg".