The Air I Breathe

I was driving home tonight when the worship song "This is the Air I Breathe" came on the radio. It resonated with something that's been slowly surfacing inside of me -- this, combined with the beautiful evening temperature, lured me to the train bridge to get a few moments of retreat and reflection. I parked there and went up the stairs and started across the bridge. I love how the wooden planks sound under my feet. It's such a familiar sense, but it's been awhile since I've come here alone for the sole purpose of hearing from God.

Tonight as I was leaning on the banister, listening to the rushing water and watching the city lights glimmer on the darkness below, I put into words the issue I've been wrestling with for awhile now: I don't feel my need for God. I know that's normal, and it's not freaking me out or anything, but for a lot of my relationship with Him I relied on Him for all my fulfilment. In hindsight it's mainly because I was discontent with some major life circumstances and I found myself crying out to Him almost every day just to show me hope that He was leading me somewhere good. I was less happy back then, but I felt extremely close to God and knew that my relationship with Him was genuine and growing. I heard from Him a lot in those days too, felt His presence in very real and strong ways.

Now I'm busier than I used to be (a common side effect of advancing in years), so it's harder to find time to spend in undistracted solitude. I'm much happier as well, which I am incredibly thankful for. I know the circumstances behind this growing happiness are gifts from God and not merely distractions from Him. However, I've been less desperate to lean on Him because of this. And tonight I told God that I may have lost my sense of need for Him, but I know it's still there and that nothing else can take His place. I also asked that He'd help me stay mindful of our relationship so that I won't let it get shoved onto the back burner all the time...especially as I get older, since I know I'll only get busier.

Anyway, it was cool. I turned around to see the other view, and it struck me how incredibly huge the sky is. That's one of the advantages of the train bridge, or any other high place...it's like taking a deep breath after hours of taking shallow ones. The sky was all around me, on every side, overhead, from the farthest points of my peripheral vision and infinitely beyond that. No matter where I look, no matter what angle my head is at, I'll never be able to see the whole sky.
Likewise, no matter where I find myself in life, however I see God in each of those times, I will never see all of Who He is. He can't be boxed by my expectations or by my limited perception. He's bigger than my needs, bigger than I could ever imagine. He's all around me, on every side, overhead, underneath, and infinitely beyond even my biggest viewpoint. And all of that unfathomable existence, He said to me tonight, is full of love for me. He can never run out of love for me, even when I question my love for Him. His presence is always there, even when I can't feel it. His providence is there, even when I forget how much I need Him. His faithfulness is there in perfect dependability.

I left the train bridge feeling like I'd just been scooped up and wrapped in a soft, warm blanket by the God of the universe.

Thornbush!

The previous post is dedicated to Jannaya. A few hours ago I asked her what she thought about when holding Graham's hand. That was her response.

Anyway, this present post is dedicated to a flashback I recently had. It caused me to burst out smiling. (It wasn't hilarious enough to make me burst out laughing, but it was still pretty funny.)

I was fourteen years old and at a youth group event. Often the Frontier and Shaunavon youth groups would get together on Friday nights and have large games like capture the flag or kick the can. On this particular night we were playing capture the flag at Valley View Bible Camp, with my team stationed in a small, cleared-out area in the midst of some ridges and bushes on an upward slope. Not being much of an aggressor, I preferred to be near home base so I could catch the enemies without having to be too sneaky myself.

The game went on for quite awhile and it was growing dark. Still, it wasn't hard for me to recognize the form of my crush rising from a nearby ridge and trying to be stealthy on his way to my team's flag. I don't think he noticed me until I got up from where I was sitting and ran toward him, hoping I could be a hero by taking him prisoner. He turned on his heels and took off in the opposite direction, a tall scrawny blonde in hot pursuit whose feet were still a little bit bigger than she'd grown accustomed to. It was a shock to realize that I was suddenly airborne and turning so that my back was now facing the ground, but it was even worse to see that the ground was now beside me, yet I was still falling.

Then it happened: loud crackles and snaps and a surprisingly soft landing. After a quick review of this event and a glance up to see that the top of the ridge was just barely out of reach, my back, behind, and legs began to sting. The stinging grew worse by the second until it reached a plateau which was, thankfully, quite bearable.

Of course I'd fall into a thornbush. While chasing my crush, the dream of heroism in my head, I would fall into a thornbush. I tried pushing myself up, but it hurt too much and only made me sink in deeper. A minute passed. Then two. Then three. Then about half an hour. It was quite dark by now, and it occured to me that I could yell for help. Certainly someone would hear me, right? Especially those who were running right past me on the ridge. But I was either too shy or too embarrassed or too polite to holler. Probably a good mix of all three. The fear of being left behind was a little bothersome, but not enough so to make me shout out and admit my awkwardly helpless predicament to anyone, especially to all the hot youth group boys.

Finally another form came running along the ridge, and somehow this person noticed me lying a few feet lower than the path. I hated and loved him all at once for getting on his knees and saying, "Hey, do you need a hand?" Now I felt stupid for not yelling for help. I said yes, and he gave me his hand and pulled me out. "Why didn't you call for help?" he asked. "I don't know," I said quietly, pulling pricklies out of my legs. I knew it would take forever to be poke-free. I thanked him for helping me, then he asked if I'd let him off free since he was from the other team. I said yes, and he went his way and I went mine.

Moral of the story: Pride goes before a fall, and it doesn't always leave afterward!

pink elephants