On seasons.

WORD OF THE DAY:

1. conflicted  past participle, past tense of con·flict (Verb)

   Verb Be incompatible or at variance; clash. Having or showing confused and mutually inconsistent feelings.

It seems to me that as soon as you get used to a season, life changes on you and moves on to the next.

Life is never boring that way, I guess.

I've just gotten used to summer, and in a week it is over. Not the actually weather season, but the season of my life. The summer job is over, and school is about to begin.

And I'm conflicted.

I'm so excited for my trip to the States in a week and for school directly after that - seeing all of my friends and taking classes that I am passionate about. But I've enjoyed my work and have felt blessed...I'm back into the rhythm of summer...

I'm having "mutually inconsistent feelings."

Sad and happy. Reluctant but eager. Holding on but anticipating what is next.

And, silly me, kind of protesting it. "Why? Why must there always be change and this weird I-don't-know-how-to-feel? How do you be content when you aren't in one 'state' to be content in, but you have two states?"

I'm referring to Paul, when he says in Philippians 4:11, "I have learned in whatsoever state I am to be content." But I wasn't sure how to do this verse when you are not really in one season, but in between.

And it came to me: perhaps the secret is thankfulness.

Seeing God's grace in the changing of the seasons.

Seeing His blessings in the beauty of both seasons. Appreciating the remaining heat of summer while appreciating the changing colors, if you will.

Being content by giving thanks. Solving this "conflicted" feeling by replacing it with the act of giving thanks. My feelings will follow.

How blessed am I! To be sad to leave the place I've been but be happy to arrive at the place I'm going.

Does this not reflect our seasons of life? This temporal life now - God has made it good. Not always fun, but overall, we like this life. He has created it with joy and beauty as He restores the brokenness and hurt. So we are sad to leave it, or to see others leave it.

But yet we are anticipating the life to come - when this season of life is on earth, we are excited for the next one, happy when we arrive at the next.

How beautiful...

What an opportunity for gratitude, this conflicted-ness within me. An opportunity to be thankful that I am sad to be leaving a wonderful season and to be thankful that I am anticipating a wonderful season.

In focus.

                                                                                                    Photo by Sarah Kuipers - July 2012              

Isn't it wonderful how God prepares us? How He knows our every thought and longing and struggle? Ahead of time? 

That blows my mind.

Last week, I was in a really good place. I've been struck these last few weeks with such a desire, a longing, for God's own heart, that it almost hurts.

My heart is seeking His, with a new intensity.

I felt so very focused on Him. It was glory. His glory.

As I marveled at this last week, praying it out, reading Scripture, thinking... I started thinking of how that unity, that sight and focus, is always there. I just don't always see it. Because I don't focus.

Something to know about me - I like metaphors. They help me, so usually when God is teaching me something, I wrestle with it by struggling with metaphor until I find (or God gets me to understand) one that fits.

This week, thinking about all-consuming desire and focus on God started as a mental diagram. Me and God. Nothing in between.

What happens when I stop focusing? Me and God with a problem in the middle, keeping me from seeing Him?

This is what it seemed like - my metaphor - at first. Me, and something solid, like wood or concrete, blocking my view. But that didn't quite seem to fit. I don't think anything ever comes into our path that is so opaque that we cannot see God in it and through it (although sometimes that focus is much, much harder than other times).

Perhaps, just perhaps, instead of it being a hard object, it is more like a mist. A cloud. Tiny water droplets that obstruct my view but don't obscure it. Little drops that when together make visibility difficult.

Perhaps then, it is my focus, not the problem, that keeps me from that unity with Him.

Allow me another analogy. In photography, you can set your f-stop or aperture to increase or decrease your depth-of-field - what is in focus or what is not.

When I focus on that mist, I have a shallow depth-of-field. The droplets are in focus but everything else (including God) is blurred. Hazy. Should I choose to expand that focus, everything becomes clear. Having God in focus keeps Him as my focal point, my purpose for the "photograph," and then the mist is clear too.

Thinking back on the last few days, God knew that I needed to know this. I've struggled this week. Many hours at work and not enough soul rest.

Perhaps I have narrowed my focus. Perhaps I have spent so much time looking at the water droplets that I forgot to focus on the God who I didn't see but never left.

Maybe I even let my lens break a little. But, thanks be to God, He takes joy in taking the broken things in life, in my life and in yours, fixing the crack in the lens and the error in aperture, and restoring them to make it beautiful again, for His kingdom and because of His love.