April 15, 2014
Finals week is quickly approaching, and with it there's much to say, think, feel, and yes, do.
Finals week is a peculiar beast for me, and I know I’m not alone. The nerdy side of me absolutely loves every single minute of it—seriously, long days in the library reading, reciting, reviewing. Sigh...heartthrob. But the free-spirit side of me is getting weary by the long days indoors while the trees are budding outside where sunshine replaces florescent lighting.
Though my mind and heart are strapped to the pendulum perpetually swinging between the two extremes, the Lord is reminding me of an old familiar truth I've long neglected.
Elementary? Maybe. But it struck me afresh when...
I was reading a commentary for my exegesis paper and He stopped me and reminded me that the Book was written about Him, and me and Him.
I was sitting in the sunshine trying to read (and failing epically, I might add) and a spider on my quilt fascinated me—the way it moved with agility and grace and the meticulous way He must have designed it.
I was talking with a friend about Hebrew exegesis and we were reminded that soon it will all be over, and His Spirit pulled me aside and said, "Yes, one Day, it will all be over...all of it. And it will just be the beginning."
I was translating Psalm 51 and was actually starting to get a smooth translation and was filled with awe that we serve a God who articulates Himself to us so well and so intentionally.
I was talking to Him on a quiet morning and asking Him to remind me of His presence and instantly a flood of these memories came to mind...
He's here. And He wants us to know it. There's something about the busyness of this season that has made me forget that He wants to intrude every moment, and that inviting Him turns an intrusion into an intimate moment shared with Him. I've asked for open eyes and I'm beginning to see Him...
In the way the tulips relentlessly push back the winter earth and insist on newness.
In the constant way my husband forgives the rough edges in my spirit and, in doing so, preaches the gospel to me.
In the way my friends consistently show me grace when I still haven't figured out how to love them well, and even when I've given up trying.
In all this and more, He's here. He's pushing towards us, prompting us, calling to us in every crevice of the day. He's catching us unexpectedly, reminding us of His love, taking our breath away by the wonder of His constant love. And all we have to do is notice.
Hi, friend. I'm Amy. Mostly, I’m just another twenty-something trying to figure out the stuff of life. I am a nerdy seminary student who loves the smell of old books and early mornings in the library. I am an artist wanabee, a liberal to the conservative and conservative to the liberal, guilty social justice groupie, and a recovering Bible know-it-all with the unreal ability to put my foot in my mouth an astonishing number of times each day. I am a sister to eight of the most hysterical creatures ever created. Good theology, used book stores, and autumn make me giddy. I preach passionately, think deeply, and ask too many questions. I write prayers, poetry and prose. I write about preaching bad and good, gender roles in the Church, the sacraments, stupid things we do on Sunday, politics, and almost everything else that you are not supposed to discuss in polite company. I also blog at oneyellowbird.blogspot.com. Welcome to the journey.
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