God saw fit to give our planet just one moon; as such, it is often used as a visual symbol for loneliness. (Just think of any sappy love movie, and there's probably a scene in which one character is pining away, staring at a bright moon, or at least sighing over one in the background.) What mercy is shown to us through this gift! What if there were two moons in our sky--or more? (Consider, for example, that the planet Jupiter may have over 60 moons.)
Solomon writes in Ecclesiastes 3:11, "[God] has also set eternity in the hearts of men." We are designed to desire things greater than ourselves. What is bigger and more outside ourselves than an entire, other globe outside of our vast planet's atmosphere? Moreover, there is no more constant reminder of our need for companionship in this life. With what else could a lonely individual sympathize so greatly, should our man in the moon have his mate?
No, God in his great mercy has chosen for Earth a single moon to show us he understands what it means to be alone. He created loneliness; and in some sense of the word, he himself is in fact lonely. It is true that "[men] cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end" (the rest of Ecc. 3:11)--Indeed, we cannot fathom that the omnipotent Creator God would want our companionship, that he would seek us, that he would woo us; but nonetheless, that is exactly what he does: He is the lover of our souls! And his engagement ring to me shines bigger and brighter than all the artificial competition lining these streets. Our moon is a reminder that I am insignificant but known, unworthy but loved, and betrothed to a fully faithful Lord... Our wedding day cannot come soon enough!
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Washing
While it would not be too far from the truth to say that I enjoy washing the dishes on occasion, what I mostly want to say here is that, occasionally, I enjoy washing the dishes. Through this task, I think of how gracious God is to provide this simple metaphor of soap and water.
Each person has his or her own method of dishwashing. Mine goes something like this:
1. Remove all the gunk with hot water (soak if necessary)--a sponge, scrubbrush, or fingers will do.
2. Load small items into a dishtub. Fill with hot, soapy water.
3. Use a rag to wash each item. Rinse under hot water.
4. Place in rack to dry. Unload rack when fully dry.
This is such a simple chore that it affords me the ability to turn off the concentration reserved for, say, feeding the baby in dress clothes, making a grocery list, or--these days--even showering. Indeed, doing the dishes gives me time to think, time to pray. This is my new, happy secret and is best done on a mild day, with the blinds open and sun shining in, and a soft breeze stirring the curtains in the family room, where the balcony door is pushed wide open.
And as I stand at the sink with soapy hands on this picture-perfect day, I recall from my childhood my mother doing the same. I often asked why she didn't put some music on while working like that--she certainly did the dishes often enough to have earned some form of entertainment. But she always worked in silence. Now, I shake my head and smile at this thought--that's definitely on the list of "Things You'll Understand When You're Older." Silence is never more golden than when you're a parent.
So it is in this warm, quiet, sudsy environment that I approach the throne of grace, remembering that Christ the King himself washed worse than greasy pots and pans--he humbly washed his disciples' feet, and, beyond the physical, he does himself quite an injustice by washing our souls, to boot. (Can your soap do that?) Grace is handed down to us in so many forms; how thankful I am that it washes over me in such mundane moments as these.
Each person has his or her own method of dishwashing. Mine goes something like this:
1. Remove all the gunk with hot water (soak if necessary)--a sponge, scrubbrush, or fingers will do.
2. Load small items into a dishtub. Fill with hot, soapy water.
3. Use a rag to wash each item. Rinse under hot water.
4. Place in rack to dry. Unload rack when fully dry.
This is such a simple chore that it affords me the ability to turn off the concentration reserved for, say, feeding the baby in dress clothes, making a grocery list, or--these days--even showering. Indeed, doing the dishes gives me time to think, time to pray. This is my new, happy secret and is best done on a mild day, with the blinds open and sun shining in, and a soft breeze stirring the curtains in the family room, where the balcony door is pushed wide open.
And as I stand at the sink with soapy hands on this picture-perfect day, I recall from my childhood my mother doing the same. I often asked why she didn't put some music on while working like that--she certainly did the dishes often enough to have earned some form of entertainment. But she always worked in silence. Now, I shake my head and smile at this thought--that's definitely on the list of "Things You'll Understand When You're Older." Silence is never more golden than when you're a parent.
So it is in this warm, quiet, sudsy environment that I approach the throne of grace, remembering that Christ the King himself washed worse than greasy pots and pans--he humbly washed his disciples' feet, and, beyond the physical, he does himself quite an injustice by washing our souls, to boot. (Can your soap do that?) Grace is handed down to us in so many forms; how thankful I am that it washes over me in such mundane moments as these.
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