Our Story
04/24/2007
Our life is a story. A rather long and complicated story that has unfolded over time. There are many scenes, large and small, and many "firsts." Your first step; your first word; your first day of school. There was your first best friend; your first recital; your first date; your first love; your first kiss; your first heartbreak. If you stop and think of it, your heart has lived through quite a story thus far. And over the course of that story your heart has learned many things. Some of what you learned is true; much of it is not. Not when it comes to the core questions about your heart and the heart of God. Is your heart good? Does your heart really matter? What has life taught you about that? Imagine for a moment that God is walking softly beside you. You sense his presence, feel his warm breath. He says, "Tell me your sorrows." What would you say in reply? "And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counselor to be with you forever—the Spirit of truth" (John 14:16–17).
~John Eldredge, Waking the Dead, 112–13
Ransomed Heart Ministries
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"Tell me your sorrows." I go to the water - it is a trying day and I know I need therapy. Driving home I took a detour to a lakeside park. Ignoring the fisherpeople, I just sat on a bench and "invited Him into my wound;" I let my bitterness and sadness be known.
My teary vision began to clear as I heard a splashing and rustling a few feet away, in the long grasses at the water's edge. I couldn't make it out at first, but after a few patient minutes (I didn't even have the energy to get up), I saw a little turtle with a bright orange underside. She was valiantly struggling to haul herself up out of the water onto a half-submerged log. I welcomed the distraction and just sat watching. I related to my turtle - I too am struggling to haul myself out of a dark and heavy place, and I also don't seem to be making much progress.
Ten minutes later, after several backward falls, my turtle lay on top of the log, basking in the sun. I thought she was onto something so I laid down on my bench to do the same. The ripples on the outlying water ran back and forth; the waves by the shore in and out. The winds of of the world twist and turn the current in every direction; it's strangely beautiful. My turtle still lay on her log, secure amid the rocking. I lay still on my bench, feeling the warmth, breathing with the breeze, gradually finding my own calm and rest.
Eventually, she plopped back into the water. I stood up and walked to my car. I think we both came away feeling better.
04/24/2007
Our life is a story. A rather long and complicated story that has unfolded over time. There are many scenes, large and small, and many "firsts." Your first step; your first word; your first day of school. There was your first best friend; your first recital; your first date; your first love; your first kiss; your first heartbreak. If you stop and think of it, your heart has lived through quite a story thus far. And over the course of that story your heart has learned many things. Some of what you learned is true; much of it is not. Not when it comes to the core questions about your heart and the heart of God. Is your heart good? Does your heart really matter? What has life taught you about that? Imagine for a moment that God is walking softly beside you. You sense his presence, feel his warm breath. He says, "Tell me your sorrows." What would you say in reply? "And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counselor to be with you forever—the Spirit of truth" (John 14:16–17).
~John Eldredge, Waking the Dead, 112–13
Ransomed Heart Ministries
_________________________________________________
"Tell me your sorrows." I go to the water - it is a trying day and I know I need therapy. Driving home I took a detour to a lakeside park. Ignoring the fisherpeople, I just sat on a bench and "invited Him into my wound;" I let my bitterness and sadness be known.
My teary vision began to clear as I heard a splashing and rustling a few feet away, in the long grasses at the water's edge. I couldn't make it out at first, but after a few patient minutes (I didn't even have the energy to get up), I saw a little turtle with a bright orange underside. She was valiantly struggling to haul herself up out of the water onto a half-submerged log. I welcomed the distraction and just sat watching. I related to my turtle - I too am struggling to haul myself out of a dark and heavy place, and I also don't seem to be making much progress.
Ten minutes later, after several backward falls, my turtle lay on top of the log, basking in the sun. I thought she was onto something so I laid down on my bench to do the same. The ripples on the outlying water ran back and forth; the waves by the shore in and out. The winds of of the world twist and turn the current in every direction; it's strangely beautiful. My turtle still lay on her log, secure amid the rocking. I lay still on my bench, feeling the warmth, breathing with the breeze, gradually finding my own calm and rest.
Eventually, she plopped back into the water. I stood up and walked to my car. I think we both came away feeling better.
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