I can't add a single grain of sand to my life's hourglass.
It spills and spills. God allows it to pour downword, grain after grain.
My life holds a rhythm only He can hear. He knows the cadence of my breaths and my heartbeats. Like a baby in the womb who grows inside the rhythm of his mother, the Lord is intimately familiar with mine.
Last year, I started blogging. It wasn't my first venture into writing. But it is the first long term record of my journey. I began lining up strings of letters against the grains of sand spilling. Key strokes clicked to my rhythm, gave the grains a voice.
When I'm leaning into my Lord, I find my stride, and the grains spill with a melody conducted by the Life-giver Himself. The sand splashes down, radiating life, purpose, and nourishment in abundance, so I can then spill out to others.
My words try to capture time passing. They reflect divine work mingled with human effort. If I've learned anything from blogging, it is this: when I am disconnected from the Lord, I lose my voice. The grains beat the base of the hourglass with a crisp, empty echo.
But they keep spilling. They don't wait for me. They pound hollow until I wake up.
I can't get the lost ones back.
As soon as I remember to open the eyes of my heart, I know what to do: stop and reconnect. And then forgive myself. Deep inside, I know something precious has been wasted.
When connected and walking in His truth, I have something to say, my rhythmic clicking, my offering held up in my two pale and aging hands. When once I yield to the Lord's leading after wandering away for the millionth time, I hear the melody of my hourglass rise. Once again, my time spills with beauty and purpose like a song.
No one can silence the song of a life lived within the will of God.
Neither does death bring it to an end.
Not even the powers of hell can stop what God is doing through His children.
Labels: working out my faith