Skip to main content

Small is Good

Last night I watched the heat lightning and it reminded me of crumpled saran wrap that had somehow had been electrified and was being stretched and straightened across the sky, releasing sparks as it gained tension. Moments like last night leave me breathless, longing for something I cannot identify and feeling small. Very small. .

Tonight I did some barbecuing in the dark. I had some chicken that needed to be cooked or given up for lost and it has been way too hot to be out on the deck cooking. I don't do well in the heat. I like 70 degrees with a light breeze. I do not like 89 with relative humidity of 90+ and heat indices of 110. You can't always get what you want. But I did get to see some more lightning so it's all good.

Thursday I saw the doctor to receive what I thought would be a diagnoses of celiac sprue. According to the tests I do not have celiac sprue. I was kind of disappointed because I had reasoned it all out in my mind and with the help of Dr. Google that that was what was causing me my physical discomforts and simply eating a gluten free diet would set me right. It's odd but I was sort of disappointed to be told I was healthy and normal in all but one area. My blood shows that I have inflammation occurring in my body somewhere. Now we just have to find it.

God knows exactly what is causing my distress. He knows where the inflammation is and He knows how to heal it. He may or may not choose to heal me, but He definitely knows how. God's sovereignty is another thing that makes me feel small. Small is good.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Spiritual Aphasia aka Senseless Theology

I was recently asked why I read theology and follow theological debates. "It's all just words and opinions." Words. Words on a paper, words on a blog. Words that travel invisibly through our airwaves and our minds. What would our inner monologue consist of without words? Harsh words, gentle words, untrue words, and solid you-can-die-behind them words. They have secret lives in the depths of our souls. They overflow in torrents of grief and joy. They seep out of our character flaws, wearing down the weak convictions that hold them back until they contaminate all those around us. All of us are stained within and without by the raw sewage of unkind words. Our souls are in jeopardy for want of The Word. Jesus Christ. The Gospel. The Good News. Words matter. Doctrine matters. Theology Matters. What you win them with is what you win them to. I study theology because I was lost too long in a world that scrambles truth with its own ideas and preferences. I was fed a diet of tosse

Super Church a song for the Emergent-sy

In the early 70s I was in a youth choir at my church. Our youth pastor was a musician and his way of connecting with us as a group was through the choir and music. Somehow there was an affiliation between him and The Continental Singers, New Hope and Jeremiah People. He was worked with Moishe Rosen of Jews for Jesus too, I think. Are any of these names familiar to you? Though I remember the church fondly I was a profoundly lost and troubled young woman during my years there. That and time have muddled the memories quite a bit. Today I was digging through some old paperwork and one of the books to the musical we did. It's Getting Late For the Great Planet Earth, a folk rock oratorio by Cam Floria. Yes, that's right. Cam Floria put Hal Lindsey to music. There's a lot to laugh about and some to groan about but as I was looking through the songs and remembering, I found this little ditty and I only wish I could sing it for you. Just remember that this is circa 1972 and even th

What if.....

...what if I just need a place to let some words spill out? What if they spill out in bouquets of bright colors and pleasing scents but their frames are made of snakes and lies? Will you the reader be able to tell? Will it matter? When words smell like lilacs and honeysuckle do you care what lies beneath them? Perfumed syllables cover the stench of hope's decay. A violet or two will fool most surface dwellers, allowing them to pass by quickly and unaware.  Is that what words are supposed to do? What if my aesthetics with words are similar to Morticia Addams' with flowers?  What happens when luscious blooms are discarded?  When the ragged silhouette of thorns is all that remains will you still see the beauty?  Perhaps we'll find out.