Saturday, April 18, 2009

Spring part 2

"If we undertake work for God and get out of touch with him, the sense of responsibility will be overwhelmingly crushing, but if we roll back on God that which he has put on us, He takes away the sense of responsibility by bringing in the realization of himself."

I love this idea, and I feel both Oswald Chambers and Christ have been incessantly pounding it into my head. It's not good enough to do things for God, as though we are servants that work for a boss (like a boss!), now we are called friends, and I do things with my friends.

When I think of the future- I picture the short essay I posted below. That I am speeding towards something that will crush me. In the past few weeks, that view has changed, slowed. I can feel the future unflowering gracefully, and I can feel God starting to work and prepare me. It is this gentle thing within me that I am so amazed by. That the very moments I feel despair or anxiety I can close my eyes and, in the lovely words of Plath, all the world drops dead. I am immediately reminded that God is whispering affirmation and direction.

Things have just seemed sweeter as of late. I love the feeling I get when I am driving over to Jamie's in the morning. Our office is beautiful and the light in the morning bathes everything in this surreal glow. I love the sounds of music coming from Seans room as I work on dresses. When I read in the morning at Starbucks I feel deeply content. I get to be mentored by Jamie, who is an amazing teacher in all things fashion and sass. It seems a wondrous thing that people are wearing things I have restored.

So I am going through life with Christ, and absorbing sorrow and impatience and despair through him. That sounds weird and Christian-y, but I just have to ask to see things the way He did. That people were broken but still beautiful, that everyone just needs affirmation and a good ass kicking, and that we really can make a difference, for a few people at least. Maybe this gentle thing in me is hope. How lovely.

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