So, it is raining.
Again.
I have been driving since 8:30
this morning; it is almost 5 and I am not done yet. I pulled into the grocery
store parking lot and hesitate to get out of the car. I am tired.
Body tired.
Brain tired.
Heart tired
Spirit tired.
I sit looking out through the rain drops at the cars and
people shuffling by. The radio is softly playing. I ease the volume up. Hoping
it will overcome the fear that screams at my mind.
“He is
jealous
for me.
Loves like a
hurricane.
I am a tree.
Bending beneath the
weight of his wind and mercy…” *
My mind slips along on the tender words as I gaze out of the
spattered windshield.
I see him. He is old. I can’t see his face but I can see
that he is slow, baggy denims and a jacket. Ball cap pulled down against the
web-like threads of rain. He approaches the stand where people return their
shopping cart when they cannot walk it the extra steps back to the store.
“When all of a sudden,
I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory,”
While I am filling with the words of this song I am watching
this man. The worries are shut off now and life is unfolding in front of me.
He grabs a cart. It is linked to another. But he doesn’t
pull them apart. He drags them both aside and places them outside to the right
of the stand. He reaches back in for two more, pulls them out and sets them to
the side with the first two, careful to keep them from rolling away. I frown in
wonder. Why? I see as he turns around that he is not a store employee. He is an
old man, anyone’s dad, uncle, grandfather.
Why is he doing this?
He reaches for the third time into the mash of abandoned
dripping carts. He pulls out a smaller one and sets it to the right.
“how great Your
affections are for me.”
Uninterrupted the lyrics trickle out of the speakers.
He has the small cart secured to the side and returns to the
other larger ones that he removed to the right. He begins to slowly replace
them into the stand. Careful to link them all together and to insure they are
safely tucked in and out of traffic. He takes his small cart and begins to
steadily walk into the store. Considerably more damp than when he began.
Meticulous. Intentional. Difficult…
Why go out of your way to do something so inconvenient? In
the rain? Surely no one would fault someone for being quick, maybe even a
little careless in getting a silly shopping cart out. Leave it where it is. So
what if it’s in the way of others. So what if you have made a jumble that
someone else will have to clean up. Don’t worry about details. Do what gets you
what you need.
What.
You.
Need.
You.
Need.
I am puzzling by this tableau I just witnessed. When my
attention turns back to the radio and I am caressed by these words:
“Drawn to redemption
by the grace in His eyes,
If grace is an ocean, we're all sinking.”
If grace is an ocean, we're all sinking.”
What is His Grace other than Deliberate Intentional
Difficult Love.
Details that seem to not matter at all, matter to God. Love
that is too good to be true is irrefutable by His small touch in the tender
places.
Did it cost Him?
Was it inconvenient and messy?
Are you kidding?
Is love ever easy?
God held my heart for just a moment and kissed these words
on it,
“I will take the time
and difficulty it takes to love you”
He has loved us this way from the beginning of God. He is
worthy of my trust of this love. The grace He gives is moving all the shopping
carts it takes to get to me then peacefully putting everything back the way it
should be.
How I long to be able to love like that.
Beautiful. I love how God opens our eyes to the things the wants us to see. I look forward to reading more.
ReplyDeleteSorry. Should say "the things He wants us to see."
DeleteThanks Jason. It's cool how He speaks through our "learning style". I am a very visual learner, haha.
ReplyDeleteYour writings bring a certain glow to the reader. I believe this radiance is the Holy Spirit touching others through your words. It is a joy to follow your blog and I look forward to more inspiration.In the future, I will wear my sunglasses....lol
ReplyDeleteHis glory, not mine. thanks.
ReplyDelete