Wind bites, pure cold is an invigorating and a beautiful thing, and I have something to share.
Psalm 84 – This Psalm's second verse speaks of
longing, even fainting for the courts of God, and if you have ever in
your life ached for someone or someplace, whether in body or spirit,
you might have some idea. His place will be so lovely! How wonderful to ache for God's dwelling
place; it is an ache worth feeling, worth living with.
Passes – dominus
est maximus bonus! I passed a competition level last week; God is so
very good to me, and I am so thankful I can give my all for Him in
everything I do, even if it be a competition.
Solitude – Yes,
I do enjoy being around people, bu I love a good solitude. Times
like those mean meditation on the word and conversation with my
Heavenly Father.
The Cold – Perhaps
it is simply me in Minnesota, but after a weekend of five degree or
below zero weather, I was in awe. I have never experienced such an
appreciation of such pure cold. Not wind, not snow, but still,
silent, cold.
Affirmation – Recently,
friends and acquaintances have been extremely encouraging and
affirming, and God has been blessing me tremendously. I do not
deserve it, but He is lavishly generous despite all that.
Confrontation – I
am pretty nasty. No, not pretty;
ugly
nasty. I judge people too often, and (also too often) I have little
no patience with people, but for some reason, God always chooses to
give me grace. Suddenly the fact that one person has their quirks
and another their obsessions is not a nagging problem, but that
specifically particular element to his or her character. I slip: All
the time
But
God.
Those
two words, but
God,
repeatedly remind me that he confronts me (through others as well) to
mold and refine me, even though I slip quite too often. It is always time for dross removal!
Watching the Sun Rise – Brilliant
indeed: God is the master painter. Rising before the sun is sometimes
hard, especially in the winter, when all is cold, quiet, dark, and
seemingly dead. Before long the black turns to blue, and slowly but
determinedly yawns into gray, which does not remain for any special
length but becomes a spring board or palette of color in the sky once
the sun creeps up from the beyond. Each is akin to a fingerprint; no
two are alike.
Thanks for reading!
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