At the end of December, Matt and I decided to step away from the church plant we've invested in for the past year or so. We stepped into 2013 tired and sore from the year before, but hopeful. After only a few pages of the calendar have fallen to the floor, we have endured more pain and trials. Returned cancer. Division. Family pain. An unmet family member, lost.
Through it all, God has been slathering us with his grace. I've been devouring the psalms, basking in their light and savoring their truth. Lately, there have been so many gentle reminders of his presence, his care and his love for us. This sermon has been an important part of my healing. Hearing it from the back of someone else's church, sitting in a chair I didn't help set up, drinking coffee I didn't help make, the words poured over my heart. Simple and important truths coming from a man's mouth who has endured incredible pain and severe loss, greater in measure than mine. Whose heart shouldn't be able to see things so clearly. Who is obviously hosting the Holy Spirit.
I resonate greatly with the psalmist who writes "your word is a lamp to guide my feet and a light for my path". I don't find myself in a well-lit room. I feel as though I'm carefully stepping through a dark forest. Overgrown grass and fallen branches make it impossible to find a trail. But I have a lantern. It doesn't illuminate the entire forest, it sheds only enough light for the few steps in front of me. I lift it to eye level, waving it slowly from left to right to try to see ahead at what's next in my journey, but I can only see what's directly in front of me.
It's the perfect picture of God's presence and his word; a handheld lamp, giving us enough light for one step at a time but never leaving us alone in the darkness.
