In a field in the land of Goshen

When I was younger, shorter, and blonder, I spent a great deal of time in a field that bordered our land.  It sat on the top of a hill, sloped slightly and gave way to the village below.  There was a well-worn, slanting, and crooked path up the middle.  The view from the top took in about as much that was exciting about the land of Goshen.  A lake.  Fields with cattle and sheep.  Our school, the store, the ball field, my house.  And the road that could take you away.  I felt as though I was as far from home as I could be while still being close enough to hear and see my father calling for me on the back doorstep.  This was my safe place.  

It was my retreat when the weight of the world was too much and I could no longer keep it in.  I would walk to the top and sit in the cool grass, watching as my world kept going.  I could step out of things for a little while.  I carried on lengthy conversations with Jesus.  Bearing my young heart to Him.  I found a safe place to lay it all down.  Praying with as much fervor as a child can muster.

However, as I aged something changed.  I began to believe the lie that something grander lay just outside my grasp and maybe the One who was speaking peace into my soul was actually holding out on me.  That He didn't really have my best intentions in mind.  That I would need more than He could give.  I began to pull away.  Stepping outside of what was surely my innocence, wondering if I could have a foot in one world and keep a toe in the other.  It was I who walked away.  The innocent and vulnerable heart of a young girl traded for curiosity and counterfeit love. 

I've lost Him in that child-like capacity for such a long time, as I've looked for other fillers.  So much that interrupted my comings and goings, things I thought were harmful and difficult.  Things I blamed Him for.  Things He did not cause.  These very things turned out to be what chipped away at my stubborn, foolish and wounded soul.  Needful things, in the shape of pain and loss.  The beautiful upside down nature of the Kingdom of God.  Where those things that caused me to stumble won't be wasted if I look to the One who makes sense of my jumbled circumstance. 

I've returned to that field and I'm staring at my life through a glass dimly lit, slowly allowing the Light of His love to reveal the Truth.  I'm starting to see the phony ways I’ve tried to create His love in my life.  I’m growing young again.  Learning to let Him into those scarred and hurting places.  

I've been fighting with the simplicity of this.  All of this is suddenly before me like a book with chapter after chapter of His coming through for me, but how I've blindly given praise to situation and circumstance.  Just as I was comforting my children through a big move to a new city, new church, new school, new home, God has been comforting me in my big move.  The move from insecurity to a place of safety.  The wondrous child-like simple Truth of a God who is madly in love with all of His children, longing to restore a severed and broken connection with them. 

God never gives up.
God cares more for others than for self.
God doesn’t want what he doesn’t have.
God doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force himself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.

1 Corinthians 13:4-7

The Message