09/05/14

Jason & I being awesome at Gorman Heritage Farms

Sarah, the House Manager in Blue Ash, is leaving the organization.

I really like her, so that's definitely sad.

Ben and I went to the headquarters in Norwood to visit her.

She said she's training a new staff for Thursday evenings.

"Is her name Pocahontas?" Ben quipped.

"That little hellion!" I exclaimed.

They looked at me weird.

"Pocahontas was a nickname. It meant 'little hellion' in Algonquian"

They just kept looking at me.

"Her real name was Mataoka," I said.

Sometimes, I think, I just need to not broadcast my dorkiness.

I almost cancelled my preaching gig this coming Sunday. I had a really rough day Wednesday, and I told Jessie, "I feel... convoluted. I'm wrestling with so much disappointment, frustration towards God, doubt about beliefs I've held dear, and grief. Let's not forget the grief." I told her, "I just don't feel like I'm in any place to do ministry." She told me (as she had multiple times), "Being in that place doesn't mean you're unfit for ministry. Everyone struggles, and everyone who has the capacity for thought and feeling wrestles. Churches don't need people who pretend they have it all together; churches need people who are honest about their struggles, who meet people in their struggles, and who run hard after God." I think she's right.

I also have a meeting with another church.

It's for a position overseeing small groups.

It involves writing curriculum, course material, stuff like that.

It'd be a good outlet for my writing. We'll see what happens.

I've been meditating on Psalm 16. The first verse is beautiful: Protect me, O God, for in You I take refuge. A refuge is a safe place, a haven from the storm; a refuge isn't deliverance from the storm, but a place where safety is found during the storm while awaiting deliverance. I really do believe rescue is coming--but I have to wait. I chafe at waiting. My impatience is only compounded by seeing God answering other peoples' prayers and further compounded by my answered prayers, culminating in thankfulness and praise, being nothing of the sort, after all. I feel overwhelmed with constant setbacks, defeats, and disappointments. It isn't just discouraging; it's debilitating. I feel like I'm waiting on a resolution that will never come, wasting efforts and prayers on a dream and a godly desire that God, for whatever reason, has no intention of fulfilling. It's in the refuge that I hear the still, small voice: Don't give up, find refuge in Me, pursue Me, and keep waiting. My old gospels professor told us once, and I remember it quite well, "If we think God is answering our prayer, and it turns out that He isn't, it doesn't mean God can't be trusted; it just means we have to keep waiting." Waiting is a part of life with God; the psalms are rife with How long, O Lord? Abraham waited 25 years to taste God's promise; David waited 15 years to be crowned King, and he spent a good amount of it lonely, afraid, hemmed in by enemies, betrayed by friends, and lamenting to a God who seemed slow to keep His promises; but God, in all of that, was working to bring His promise to fruition in His time, by His means, and in a way that would glorify Him and, at the same time, be the best for David. I do believe that God has made me promises; I can't prove it, and I can't guarantee it, and I could be stupid for thinking it ("Grace in the Face of Stupidity" will be on my tombstone); but I believe it nonetheless, and I have to keep waiting. Waiting isn't passive but active; in this time of waiting, I'm to keep pursuing Him with abandon, cultivating holy desires, and striving to glorify Him as I trust that He knows what the hell He is doing.