Thursday, September 25, 2003

“People rarely change until the pain to remain the same is greater than the pain to change.”

I came across this quote earlier today and it really struck me. I feel like think it’s even could be in direct reference to the way that God changes us. Sometimes we want nothing more than to change something about our lives, but we do nothing. We sit and wait, and often we don’t really even know for what we’re waiting. But there comes a time when it makes you almost physically ill to stay where you are. You are either filled with guilt over the sin that you continue to hold onto and live in, or you’re so weary of being complacent that you can’t help but find an out. For me that means being honest with myself, accepting that not only can I not do it by myself, I don’t want to. It’s such an emancipating feeling that I always try to hold on to for as long as I can, b/c I know soon enough I’ll find myself there again, dealing with something a little different than before. It's like a child that drops their sucker, and picks it back up. And their parent is doing all they can to pry it out of their sticky little hands just to wash it off, and make it clean again. We hold on to our issues like that, not realizing all He wants to do is make them clean again.

Change is coming. I smell it in the air as the temperature drops outside and it looks more and more like fall. I feel it in the pit of my stomach when I think of my future. I hear it in my voice in my prayers whether sung loudly or whispered. I see it on the faces of those that know me best. For some reason I’m finding a lot of peace in this time of turbulence. I think it’s b/c I know He’s moving in me. There’s this fountain in Bloomington on IU’s campus that I love. It’s in front of the music school and it’s of a tall stone structure fountain that faces an entire row of smaller sprays of water. It symbolizes an orchestra with the conductor standing tall in front of his musicians. I always wanted a picture of myself in the middle of that orchestra. It was a thought that came my freshman year, and finally in my senior I finally decided to just do it. So I headed down with a few of my friends late at night, with camera and film (black and white of course) in tow. And I ignored the looks of everyone around me, and climbed in the fountain. It was freezing. It didn’t help matters much that it was already deep into fall, and very chilly on the evenings. But as I stood and let the water fall over me, I raised my hands out, palm up, curved towards Him. I love that picture. It reminds me every time I see it, that I’m a member of His orchestra. Right now, I feel like I’m standing in that fountain, and the water is freezing. Sometimes allowing God to move in your life is like a blast of cold water. It hurts, it stings, but as His musician there’s no better place to be. So I'll let it wash it over me, till I'm numb from the cold, till I'm the woman of God He's called me to be.

I hope I never leave this fountain.


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home