Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Through it all, He is our God

Last night, I wandered out of our rental house into the back yard. Dogs were doing dog stuff, noses thrown to the sky, harkening back to some time long ago when they were Wolverine or some such.

The sky was a reflection of the town below it, fluffy clouds lit up like a tugboat on the Mississippi, a half moon singing tunes in semi-darkness of a summer sky. The humidity was as thick as a wall of plaster hung from the heavens.

I looked up at stars that were blinking God's Morse Code. Twinkle, twinkle my eye!

Just like that, a wave of goodness splashed onto me. As quick as a breath, I felt blessed. Those stars were God's way of connecting me to time immortal. Same old stars under the same old sky. Little to nothing has changed in the past year, the past decade, in the past lifetime of mine.

A year ago at this time my wife, Mary, and I were putting the finishing touches on packing to leave Eunice and come to New Orleans for a church re-start, the first of its kind in the Louisiana Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church. We had no real plan, other than come and work hard. We had not dealt with a church plant/restart/whatever before.

We packed the stuff, put the dogs and cats in cars and trucks and set sail, looking hard for the shoreline that would let us know we had arrived. A year later, the ship still floats, but land is so far away we are retrieving the anchor and heading out again.

Through all of it, as singer/songwriter Colton Dixon says, He was our God.

I'm reminded of God's message to Malachi, one of my favorites: "Bring all the tithes into the storehouse so there will be enough food in my Temple if you do. I will open the windows of heaven for you. I will pour out a blessing so great you won't have enough room to take it in! "

I imagine God in his heavenly banquet hall (Game of Thrones, indeed) pouring out a pitcher of stars, delightfully snickering as they land in just the right spot in the sky. "There. There. There." He sings a song of hope and redemption as he pours out life itself."

Especially to those who do not see the misery but instead see the joy painted in circumstance.

In the past year, we got to see all seven grand children in an important year of their lives (aren't they all?).
We got to see this grand town called New Orleans in all its lavishness.
We got to see our son, Jason, play the House of Blues.
And through it all, He was our God.

We got to see the grand children play baseball and tee-ball, and basketball and football.
We got to see the grand children dance.

And through it all, He was our God.

Mary and Shanna, our eldest daughter, went to New York together, introduced the boys to snow and Rockefeller Center.
We lost a wonderful pet/friend in April, the same week we learned we would be moving away fro the kids and grand kids.

And through it all He was our God

I was able to see a marriage reborn. I was able to see friendships restored. I was able to experience joy and love in new and old ways, like spring following winter. I was able to see a church grow from as close to scratch as I will ever see one.

And through it all, He was our God.

I've always been kind of partial to the incredible idea that those stars we see each night it is clear and the sky is a dark as a congressman's heart are the same stars that Abram saw as he crossed unknown lands, the same stars that Joseph wore his coat of many colors under, the same stars that Moses parted the Red Sea under, even the same stars that Jesus walked the dusty roads of Palestine under, looking up and singing a deep song of joy and hope, snickering while playing games with a reborn Lazarus.

The same stars.

Imagine: The Bible says He created the stars and calls them by name.

Those ... same ... stars that throw sparkler illumination onto my nights are His playthings.

The Bible says of God, "What supports its foundations and who laid its cornerstone as the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy?"

Imagine: That night so long ago when Jesus came strolling out of the cave, a resurrected body craving some smoked fish, the stars twinkled a song of glory. The same stars. Through three days in the grave, He was our God.

That's life, folks. Same as yesterday, today and tomorrow. And through it all, He is our God. Through life and through death, winning and especially losing, through good and through bad, through this year and through the one to come, and the one after that and the one... through it all, He is our God.

Always has been. Always will be, if we allow Him entry.

Dixon writes, "I have won and I have lost
I got it right sometimes
But sometimes I did not
Life's been a journey
I've seen joy, I've seen regret
Oh and You have been my God
Through all of it

You were there when it all came down on me
And I was blinded by my fear
And I struggled to believe
But in those unclear moments
You were the one keeping me strong
This is how my story's always gone."

That's how this story goes, and that's how this story will end.

The scriptures say, "God is more glorious than the moon; he shines brighter than the stars."  Indeed.

No comments: