Skylarks and Writing

Yesterday I took a long walk through the fields. I spent some of the time praying for people I love and some of it laughing at my dog and her ridiculous enjoyment of her romp.

It was a gusty blustery day. The wind came howling off the water, up and over the cliffs. Sea spray was whisked off the waves and strewn across the meadows near the edge. It was a wild and wonderful day to be out in nature. I was even more alone than usual as most people had sense enough to stay indoors, but I loved it. Drinking in the wildness and the power, I was reminded that this is but a pale reminder of the power of God.

I rarely pause and sit on days like this, but as I came to a place that was partially sheltered from the wind, I decided to sit and take it all in. I found a springy bit of turf and long grass and settled into a little hollow. As I did, I noticed bird song wafting through the air. Over the din of wind and waves, a beautiful song sailing along. A single song from the throat of a creature I couldn't see. I could tell is was coming from far above me. I strained my eyes to find the source.

It took me a bit of searching to locate the tiny bird high in the sky. A single tiny bird struggling to gain altitude and singing his heart out. It was a skylark. He had ventured up into the sky on a violently windy day to sing his song in the hope that a female might be wooed by the beauty of his song and join him in the nest he had made in the meadow below. I watched for nearly 10 minutes as his song varied and changed, repeating themes. All the while his little body was being battered and flung about by the wind; his wings beating furiously, his song unwavering.

Then, suddenly, he dropped from the sky as if he had been shot. He dropped straight down probably 100 meters. Just above the ground his free fall morphed into an elegant swoop and with a flutter, he was gone; back into the nest he had created. His song stilled, his exhaustion complete.

I sat silently marvelling at the scene I hat witnessed. Wondering... Was I the only one who heard his song?  It seemed like a lot of fruitless effort. Such hard work, for what return? He utterly spent himself flinging his song into the universe, pouring all his effort into its creation, only to drop exhausted to the earth.

As I lay there in the grass pondering this, I felt the gentle call to self-reflection and conversation with the Father. I realized that my writing is much like the skylark. I have laboured long and hard to create, to express the song within me. I have striven to put my heart on a page and have flung it into the world, inviting others to learn from my lessons to profit from my pain. I am hopeful that it is not in vain, but in the end, I drop exhausted from the effort and wondering if any have heard my song.

What makes the skylark sing? What makes me write? He is compelled by instinct; an instinct placed within him by the all loving Father. I am compelled by the love of God and something in me cries out to be expressed in words. I believe that this too has been placed there by the Father. And so, he sings and I write all to the glory of God; not knowing what comes next, only playing our role as best we know how.

Fear and Love

John tells us that true love casts out fear. He goes on to say that in perfect love there is no fear. (1 Jn. 4:18) I guess my love is not perfect, because I find myself struggling with fear today.

This is a pretty rare experience for me. I am a generally confident guy who goes through life with a glass half full perspective, but there are a few things in my life at the moment that have brought up fear in me. It is so unfamiliar to me, that I couldn't have named it until today.

I was walking through the fields today, talking with God. I was asking Him to help me understand what has been driving me toward the old cisterns lately. Suddenly, it was crystal clear. I realized that I am afraid. I have been trying to escape from the pain of fear. The revelation seemed to come from outside of me, but I knew immediately that it was correct. Naming it allowed me to feel it and I suddenly had tears in my eyes. 

The things I am fearing are not fantasies, they are based in real circumstances I am facing. But that does not make them real. I have been more and more convinced lately that the future has no actual existence, and when I attempt to live in the imagined future, I can not really meet God there. God lives in the NOW. He is the I AM. He is always NOW! So, here in the present is where I must meet Him and where my love for Him must be perfected. His love for me is already perfect and total.

All of this is complicated by the fact that I no longer believe that God promises to deliver us in the triumphalist way that I was taught as a child. God does not promise to deliver us from suffering. He does not unfailingly rescue His children from poverty, disease, war, abuse, etc... I have seen too much pain and loss to believe there is a prayer, incantation, ritual, or service, which compels God to act in a particular way. Such beliefs are more akin to magic and shamanism, where the supernatural world can be manipulated or bent to our will, than to the Biblical picture of a fiercely free, all powerful, and independent God who does whatever He wills. 

I do love and trust this God, but I do not know what He will do. He may not deliver me from the things I fear. He hasn't always in the past. Does this make Him untrustworthy?  No, but it forces me to redefine my trust and face my fears. Do I trust God or trust that He will deliver a particular outcome. Do I trust His person and character? I feel like I am losing my faith in prayer as a productive force, but growing deeper in my love and dependence on the God who actually answers prayer. 

He met me today in the fields. He showed me my heart. We talked. He did not promise to deliver me, in fact, He did not directly address the questions I asked. But He was there. That's worth something. My fear is still with me, but it is diminished somewhat by His presence. Perhaps my love is being perfected even through this.

We read in Hebrews that Jesus was made perfect through suffering. (Heb. 2:10) What makes me think that my path will be more comfortable than His?