the dance of the ink riddled fingers

walking on water


Returning from a surreal trip to China, I did not expect to be immediately to be hit with the blues of returning to “reality”.  I didn’t really even want to tell people about China, because the more I did, the further I seemed, the more I repeated myself and the shorter and less exciting my story telling became.

I also came back with void.  It was a particular kind of loneliness that really hit the spot. I could only stare at the chasm between my first love and I.  Looking at the gaping depth of the water I could never swim the distance of, I didn’t know how to meet Him and I couldn’t have felt stupider. I couldn’t look Him in the face, some sort of sheepishness and cowardice had befallen me. I knew I hadn’t tried very hard in the last month…or six, and I knew He knew it too.  Honest to goodness I find my definitions for “being Christian” so slippery.  My definitions are the beautiful kind of elusive and I’m on the heavier side of the scales, about to fall off.

Midway through the week I found myself sitting against my room door with my raised voice pressed against my mobile phone telling a friend who told me I was a good person, “What have I done with my life?? All I do is make people feel better for a little while. I’m just a feel-good person, but I’ve hardly done a thing for anyone!”  This confession scared me and woke me.

I stepped into church for the first time in three weeks, and felt…well, I didn’t feel anything in particular, didn’t hear anything in particular… But He began rubbing me down and speaking to me anyway, I couldn’t feel or hear Him for the first part – my skin had thickened in defense and my ears unfamiliar to His voice.  He was rubbing away these shields of skin that walled me a little thicker, kept me a little further from Him, from everyone.  Pressing on me, instead, links of truth which he embedded into an incredibly light chainmail (of sorts), gently, gently. 

“This, my love, will protect you. This, my child, will not weigh you down.”

I was still.  I needed this. I needed love. I needed to love. 

I cannot write you something comprehensively resolving anymore. Because I know not how anything is resolved. I KNOW nothing in this world is resolved. Nothing yet is ended – though everything has it’s end. Since everything is subject to change, how can resolve be complete?

But this – whispers of hope, whispers of promise, ambitions for heaven, for better, for love, for freedom.

Therefore we do not lose heart.  Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.  For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.  2 Corinthians 4:16-18

But the Lord is faithful, and he will protect you from the evil one. May the Lord Direct your hearts into God’s love and Christ’s perseverance. 2 Thessalonians 3:3&5

My comfort in my suffering is this: You’re promise preserves my life. Psalm 119:50

So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness. Colossians 2:6&7

I find that I live better when I perceive that I mightn’t have long to.  We, young people, keep thinking we have forever, we have years and year… But what if we didn’t. I haven’t felt such mortality is a while. I need to do something with my life, more than giving people a cause to laugh or smile…

Don’t you?

Hah! I sound totally depressed above. Maybe I was, but not so now. No, no, not so now ;)
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