What I've since discovered is this: my writing is not necessarily profound because of the content of my stories, it is profound at the grace of the fact that I write at all. The ability to express, the therapy of getting my thoughts on paper, the fellowship of hearing that someone else feels the way I do: how incredible are these things!
I haven't done anything "astounding" today. I just had Mexican food for lunch and I am about to work on a project for my education class. I haven't saved a life or made anyone think.
Yet there's hope in the mundane. I am not a masterpiece due to my own personality, but because God inhabits me.
The smallest actions of mine (and yours) are, in themselves, profound. We wait and wait for the "next big opportunity", the "big promotion" and "the one", but everything leading up to those moments are God-given, life-changing instances. I have become less and less sensitive to this beautiful truth since being in college, forcing myself to go from A to B, from beginning to finish. I have not savored the moments of passing, the casual conversations, the silence of my day's end.
The living, all-mighty God exists in all those moments. In my choosing of either Tamales or Enchiladas and in the baptisms of this Sunday morning. Because He loves us. He doesn't wait on the other side of our messy lives, coaxing us over to Him. He sticks by us, shoulder-to-shoulder, and whispers into our ear, "I'm here, let's get through this".
I sit at my desk, waiting another 6 minutes before I must dash off once again. And I anticipate the moment where I might be given something incredible to say. Yet there it is-- the willingness to wait, to be expendable for the Lord's Will: that is incredible. That is profound.
I haven't done anything "astounding" today. I just had Mexican food for lunch and I am about to work on a project for my education class. I haven't saved a life or made anyone think.
Yet there's hope in the mundane. I am not a masterpiece due to my own personality, but because God inhabits me.
The smallest actions of mine (and yours) are, in themselves, profound. We wait and wait for the "next big opportunity", the "big promotion" and "the one", but everything leading up to those moments are God-given, life-changing instances. I have become less and less sensitive to this beautiful truth since being in college, forcing myself to go from A to B, from beginning to finish. I have not savored the moments of passing, the casual conversations, the silence of my day's end.
The living, all-mighty God exists in all those moments. In my choosing of either Tamales or Enchiladas and in the baptisms of this Sunday morning. Because He loves us. He doesn't wait on the other side of our messy lives, coaxing us over to Him. He sticks by us, shoulder-to-shoulder, and whispers into our ear, "I'm here, let's get through this".
I sit at my desk, waiting another 6 minutes before I must dash off once again. And I anticipate the moment where I might be given something incredible to say. Yet there it is-- the willingness to wait, to be expendable for the Lord's Will: that is incredible. That is profound.
Our soul waits for the Lord; he is our help and our shield.
For our heart is glad in him, because we trust in his holy name.
Let your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us, even as we hope in you.
-Psalm 22:20-22 (ESV)
