So. Many. Thoughts.
I'm all a-flurry with thoughts of gratitude and prayers of wishfulness, dreams of delight and fears of the unknown. I serve a God I can talk to, a Creator who cares, and that is the most beautiful blessing of all. I only wish I could know His heart more in this moment. So much is unclear, and I need to learn to live with that.
It seems that the longer I live, the more opportunity I have for experience after experience, and the more complicated I become. How life is going to work out from here on in, I have no idea whatsoever. Maybe my tiny heart will stop beating before I have a chance to see it all work out, but I can't live expecting that, I must plan for tomorrow, but I don't know what tomorrow will bring!
Inspiration is so ridiculously fleeting and some moments it comes and then it's gone and it seems with all the worlds and whirls of things to do and places to be I barely find time to revel in imagination and the sense of beauty falling softly all around me, like ten thousand tiny pieces of sparkle dust in slow motion. But then it is in the odd moments, the study-for-test moments, where my mind is shot, the neurons just aren't firing, and there, in the middle of that hard work, I find myself inspired, I find myself grateful I find myself alive.
Phenomenal: I'm filtering the world through my understanding - I don't like Kant, but he's got that right, we're all filtering the world through our eyes, our ears, our hearts. But then there's this noumenal, this existence independent of our minds, we don't need to dream up God or some sense of truth that is comforting to a frightened soul, for Truth does really exist, it lives, it reaches down, and as it reaches down I realize it is not an it at all, but a Sovereign God who loves me desperately and wants me to see, through all the filthy muck of life, that He is Good, Gracious, Loving, Compassionate, and Just.
He is Jesus. And this week, this passion week, we look forward to His death. We celebrate it, knowing that He rose again and is not dead.
So we spread palm branches for him in every corner of our hearts, shouting with the multitudes, "Hosanna!!!" For He is King, and He is conqueror of sin.
So we bear our crosses, trudging up the hill to that place where He was beaten and pierced and gaze with drooping jaws as He bears our sin and then blackness covers all. It is finished. Forever. For eternity. So it is in this time, where I am still filtering reality myself, that I must live like I believe, for I do!
Serve Him! Proclaim Him! Teach Him!
It may be only Tuesday... but HE IS ALIVE!!! HE IS RISEN!!!