Pulses

My day starts with an age-old fight- leaving the warm blankets behind for the cold air outside.
Often, it starts with seeing a much later time on the clock than before anticipated.

And so it begins.

Another day of a job to be done, a clock to keep up with, words to be spoken.

Running late for an appointment. A forgotten task, long overdue. Heart aching over a suffering relationship.

Gray mornings, bleary eyes, and a soul longing for beauty and perfection.

It's hard to believe in grace, in an underlying pulse of glory upon my life on mornings such as these. It's hard to believe that the heart of God is beating out the rhythm of my very existence.

William Shakespeare wrote,

"Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale

Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man."

This is the side of myself that I hide from the world. I hide the fact that my soul is dry and shriveled up. The fact that it's a Jesus-loves-you, but-stay-out-of-my-way sort of day.

Pulses.

I catch a glimmer of grace when I look outside of myself; beyond the mundane, the ache of my circumstances.

Like the sun hitting a shiny object in the corner of my eye, glory lines the edges of my life.

The fact of the matter is this: my dullness does not over-rule the glory. My emotional instability, my raw nerves, my dry spirituality does not mean that God is working anything less fantastic, less exciting, or less extraordinary for His glory today than He was yesterday. That, in itself, is the beauty of this day.

This is the beauty that permeates all of existence, whether my blinded, bleary, sleep-deprived eyes choose to recognize it or not.

Borrowing from John Piper, "Do not settle for wimpy theology. It is beneath you. God is too great. Christ is too glorious. [You] were made for the glory of Jesus Christ."

Good morning.

Bring on that glory.

posted by Lydia