there’s just something about the rain. it makes me want to sleep under a metal roof- to hear the crescendo of every single drop as it crashes down.
the splash and shatter.
the quenching of the dry ground.
there’s something about the storm raging outside that stills the wrestling on the inside. it’s a soothing quiet in the midst of tumultuous downpour.
when the heart races and the mind dances with dreams of happily-ever-afters… to be calmed with the knowledge that we were placed here to live our imperfectly ordinary lives.
and that the ordinary life that lives and dies in Christ has indeed found the happily-ever-after the Fairy Tales never could quite grasp. Because the Joyfully-Ever-After will be the best yet to come, truly.
The end credits will not roll with the death toll.
the trumpets will sound, and we will rise.
Christ came to earth after a lineage of ordinary people, making ordinary lives, in the midst of messiness and hardships- that’s the humanity Christ was born to.
a line full of screw-ups, let-downs, short-comings- just typical everyday people.
how reassuring to know that we don’t have to be the Cinderella or the Prince Charming for Christ to make our lives purposeful.
that i don’t have to have the perfect dance steps or be dressed by birds to live the life Christ has called me to live. i get to be the “me” He created – in my normal, every-day imperfectness –
because you see, when the longings and the brokenness- the bitterness and the hurts become entirely too great, we still have the One who makes the Joyfully-forever-after here and now– He brings His kingdom to us and we are held by Him when we still and Behold Him.
when the storms rage all around and the internal somehow finds a perfect peace? … to dwell right there in that.
Beholding the King. being held by Him. His fingerprints, on our lives.
…to take His beauty and my mess. and that is living the perfected ordinary.
restored and ready to step out into the onslaught of the ordinarily mundane of the day, or the brutality of a fresh hardship, or the pummeled pressure of old and constant pains- remaining in His hands. shelter from the storm.
completely and beautifully ordinary.