Psalm 119:49-50
49 Remember your word to your servant,
in which you have made me hope.
50 This is my comfort in my distress,
that your promise gives me life.
…life lasts so briefly, like free theater in the park—glorious and tedious; full of wonder and often hard to understand, but right before our very eyes, and capable of rousing us, awakening us to life, to the bright green and very real grass, the mess, the sky, the limbo. This is the great unexpected promise, that we can choose now, no matter our current condition… –Anne Lamott, Almost Everything: Notes on Hope
At the beginning of a new season, I am both encouraged and overwhelmed by the promise that stretches out ahead of me, the unlimited potential.
On the one hand, everything is possible, because it hasn’t been proven impossible yet. No mistakes have been made. No words have been spoken that can’t be taken back. No hours wasted. No days or entire weeks vanished, gone, with nothing to show for them.
The promise—the potential— is a perfect blanket of new snow that covers all the dried up remains of the season past: all that was left undone, all that was done poorly, all that caused guilt, all that carried shame.
On the other hand, the potential is daunting. What is expected of me? What do I expect of myself? How long before I mess up? Fail? Disappoint?
That sparkling, pristine snow is beautiful to behold, but it doesn’t last. Life happens.
The car makes deep tracks in the driveway. The four-legged and two-legged creatures leave footprints. The sun melts. The lifeless grass peeks through. What was perfect becomes a perfect mess. The promise of the season—the unlimited potential—feels lost in the reality of daily living.
But here’s the thing I would do well to remember: real life is where Jesus makes his home.
It’s in the mess of our lives that God’s promise dwells.
It’s in our weakness that God opens us to strength born of sorrow.
It’s in our vulnerability that God draws near.
My failures don’t erase God’s promise. If anything, they embolden God’s Word, enabling me to hear the promise clearly: You are loved. Always. You are not alone. Never. You are precious in my sight…as you are.
Come, Lord Jesus, come. Rouse us. Awaken us to life. Amen.