Didn’t really get to connect with my fellow writers this evening. Little things got in the way, like stopping by the store for milk and getting distracted by all the pretty ice cream.
It’s that time again. Kate. The sisters and brothers. Connecting across the miles and through the internet to write about: world.
It’s getting to me this week.
And all the junk in it.
I know to expect a dip in my mood with the first blast of summer’s cruelty. Though born in August, I despise this season. As I tweeted the other day, saying that you like the heat is basically saying you like being sweaty and lethargic. I don’t understand that at all. People that willingly live in the desert have to be a little touched in the head.
Already prone to scowl, I began to dwell on some things. Broken relationships. An upcoming CT scan to check on my sad, dysfunctional liver. (Seems like that road will never end). The cancer that’s eating away at my grandfather.
Crabby, thy face is mine.
Sunday was unpleasant.
Monday, out of nowhere, I had a desire to read the book of Ezra. I knew it was a prompting of the Spirit because…well, it was urgent. A deep, aching hunger. For Ezra? Sure, I’ve read it before, but nothing was sticking out in my mind. Why on earth would I be moved to read about the ancient priest and his people? What words did God have for me there?
If I listed everything I learned from just three chapters, this post would far exceed the five minute mark.
The people in exile return to the ruin of their home, the once-great city of Jerusalem. They take back with them all the precious items Nebuchadnezzer had stolen. The pagan community around them practically throws valuable items at them. They have no idea where to start, how to proceed. But they go.
The Nethinim. The Temple workers, who labored behind the scenes. The men who did the grunt work. Out of the spotlight, beyond the glory.
Chapter Three, verse three:
Though fear had come upon them because of the people of those countries, they set the altar on its bases; and they offered burnt offerings on it to the Lord, both the morning and evening burnt offerings. (NKJV)
They did what the knew was right, despite their fear.
I was reminded: I cannot take my eyes off of the Lord. Not for a moment. Not for a fraction of a moment. I will be swallowed up by woe and worry, rack and ruin if I dare. Yes, I face ongoing health problems. Yes, my grandfather is in his final days. Yes, there are troublesome people and issues.
None of that is bigger than God.
And so this, the cry of my heart: