It has been twenty-three months since my last post. Because of the internet and telephones, most of you aren’t wondering what happened next. You aren’t wondering if my dad is still sick (he’s not). You aren’t wondering where I live or what I’m doing (Lubbock, working for a non-profit). Lately, I’ve been thinking about how much I enjoy writing. So I’m going to. Write.
These twenty-three months…
… gave me time to realize how short my time in Africa was.
… lifted my perception of my Savior immeasurably higher.
… taught me the importance of family and friends that know me well.
… have been mostly spent as a member of an incredible church.
… burned my apartment down.
… introduced me to Klaire Elizabeth, a niece that enjoys books, shoes and Old McDonald’s farm.
… made me get a job.
… showed me how much I know.
… showed me how little I know.
Yesterday, my pastor talked to us about our need for a Shepherd. We’re sheep: easily misled, vulnerable, unintelligent. For some reason, this made me feel so much better about things. I’ve been trying to make a decision in the past few months and have felt at sea. Or maybe at meadow.
I want to take everything into consideration and use logic and my own experience to make the (indisputable) best decision. But I doubt my own ability to do this, and with good reason. Chapter 40 of Isaiah begins with a picture of a shepherd carrying the sheep and ends with this: “He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength.” The faint, those with no might. Those who can’t make a decision to save their life.
My pastor reminded his flock that Jesus is shepherding his sheep. That seems hard to imagine. But I can look back at these twenty-three months and see how much better He is at guiding me than I am at carving a path in rock with a toothpick.
For the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of living water, and God will wipe every tear from their eyes.
revelation 7:17
from one writer to another, Beautiful Words…