Let There Be Light

We get newsletters from lots of fellow missionaries, including Matt and Jenn DeGier in New Orleans, LA. I read over their e-newsletter today and was absolutely caught by one sentence.

"And I cry to the campus: Let there be light!"

Daddy's Little Helper

Sitting in the loft of the XA House, all the windows open on a beautifully sunny day, it just felt like a great time to spend with the Lord. I turned on some worship music and began journalling my prayers - a new thing I'm trying. I was thinking of some of the things He has done with the students at SFA this year and was filled with awe and gratitude at how beautifully He works. I look at a situation and see the difficulties, the problems, the possible negative outcomes. That's just me, I guess. And because of that, I tend to struggle with trusting Him. But this semester I have really seen Him do things - all kinds of things, in me, through me, and just all on His own. When I see difficulties, He is working solutions; when I see obstacles, He is making a way in people's hearts. He knows just what to say and when to say it - He knows how people will respond to different things and how to use those responses to work out the best for them (which is always to be drawn closer to Him). Simply put, the work of the Lord is just beautiful.

The longer I sat and thought about how beautifully He does things, the more I wanted to be part of the beauty, to be part of the work He is doing. Then I got to thinking about my Dad. When I was young, before He died, I was a total tom-boy Daddy's girl. Wherever he went, I wasn't far behind, and whatever he did, I wanted to do with him! My Dad was really good with his hands, like his own father, known as Granddaddy to me. They both loved woodwork and were both very good at. My Dad had an endless list of projects for the house, for himself, for my mom, for my mom's friends, for me... and whenever he went out to work in his shop, I would beg to come along and help. Of course, I was only 6 at the time and there were many dangers for me in a shop with power tools. But he knew that I loved him and wanted to be with him, and I think he wanted to be with me just as much, so he would always let me come along. He would sit me down on the edge of his work bench and tell me all about the project for that weekend. He would tell me step by step, in six-year-old-terms, how we would do it. Then I would ask the big question: "How can I help?" Despite the dangers, despite my total lack of knowledge and skill, Daddy would always find something for me to do... always. He would watch over me while I "helped" with HIS project; he kept me safe, made sure I didn't hurt myself or the work, and in the end I was always so proud. Momma would come out to check on us and I would show off all "my" work. I can look back now that I'm older and I absolutely know that I didn't do anything - the work was HIS. But I did get to have a part in it because he was willing to give me a part even though I was young and totally inexperienced. I got to be part of the beautiful things my Daddy made just because he loved me. I wouldn't trade those times for anything now.

I think I make things with the Lord too complicated sometimes. He's my Father - I love Him and want to be with Him. He loves me and wants to be with me, too. He makes beautiful things, and if I ask Him, He will always find someway for me to help. In the end, the work will all be HIS, but I will be able to say I had a part in the beautiful thing He made. How amazing.

"We do not want merely to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words — to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it. " (C.S. Lewis, talking of heaven)