Peace returning...

The following are portions of an email that I sent to a friend this morning. I felt that they rather nicely captured the space I find myself occupying today, and wanted to share them with the rest of you...

It's funny to me how sometimes it's such a struggle and a fight to slip into the presence of the Lord, and how other times, when I'm not even trying, I manage to get there quite inadvertently. This morning was one of those times. As I walked and took the train this morning I was listening to a Jason Upton album. Had to laugh at some of the lyrics… they stung a little (in a good way, I suppose).

I wrote in my journal on the train this morning "For the first time in days I feel some semblance of peace, of rest, of quiet in my heart. There is a faint possibility of hope that has been missing. This morning I believe that He will hold my heart. That He will shield me. That I will get through this season and find myself walking taller, stronger in the face of the waves. Intimacy with Him is less terrifying and more comforting a thought this morning. The pain exists, still, but this morning I believe that healing may be coming, for my heart and for so many others."

I am reminded of that line from Isaiah this morning, the one that says "a bruised reed he will not break" and am finding great comfort in that.

Just before I arrived at the office, a line from a Jason Upton song that I'm quite sure I've never heard before it played on my ipod this morning caught me, and I'm taking comfort in it as well… "In the midst of the presence/there is a stone/that the world rejected/and it kills the giant." Something comforting about that in the midst of a season where it has felt like I've faced an endless stream of "giants".

I'm relatively at peace. My heart feels quiet. It feels as if I've somehow managed surrender again (in a different way this time), and that, by managing it, I've managed to push through whatever it is that I've been swarmed with these last days and step into a clear space, an open space of rest for a little while. The waves are still there, but they're calmer and far less overwhelming at the moment. No more drowning or gasping for air in the fight to survive.

I've got plans to be still for a while later tonight, with that same Jason Upton album, and a candle or two. (stillness hasn't come easily or been very desired lately either.) I need to absorb some of the things that album offers in stillness instead of while I'm moving and commuting. This is a much better space to be occupying.

Bruised but not broken or crushed.