September 3rd, 2012

I've had one of those evenings of mulling-over and reflection. I'm home for a bit, and in the quiet of my first non-student fall since the age of 2, I've taken on a number of small projects. I started cleaning out one of our sheds a couple of days ago. It's an old farm shed full of storage-worthy items---everything from our childhood trikes to my great-grandmother's dining room table and chairs. It's a treasure-trove of what my mom would accurately term "treasures," but it was also quite dirty and disorganized.

I was about 3/4 through the 'pulling out' of stuff into the adjoining pasture stage of the organization process when Mom came home from work. I knew she'd be stressed/slightly overwhelmed by the very in-progress appearance of my little project, and really who could blame her?

Her very natural reaction took me back to the same childhood feelings of wanting to see something through to completion before revealing it to my approving parents. I'm sure I uttered the words, "Don't look yet; it's not done!" at least a million times during my childhood. There's something about revealing a perfected project for admiration that's just so satisfying.

This evening's musings led me to make a connection between my simple desires for a polished finished product and the way I often find myself relating to God and other people. The truth is, I like to have it all figured out. The messy, creative process isn't my particular favorite, at least not for the general public's viewing. Problematic, when you're living in community, and even more problematic when you're trying to be honest with God.

You see, sometimes, even though I know, mentally, that the Father welcomes me in all my disorder, I find myself shrinking away, afraid of His reaction to my un-organized heart and life. Sometimes I'm afraid of Him because I'm all too aware of my own brokenness. I say to Him, "Don't look yet! I'm not done!"

But, the blessed reality of it is, God loves me in my messes. He looks on the squalor of my sin and confusion, and He rolls up His sleeves. He isn't at all overwhelmed by my disasters. He delights to glorify Himself in the putting-back-together-process.

He is the God of my disasters. And I am often a mess, a work in progress in the hands of my Healer.

And you, friend, so are you.