Revival and Renewal

reflections on our first week

They say 80% of our lives is made up of routine: going to the grocery store, sleeping patterns, dinner, chores, church, job, on and on. I feel like even my colds have a pattern they live by. 

Maybe that’s why this week has been a challenge. In the whirlwind that was June every part of our lives was upended, rooted out of the soil of our old life and placed into a new garden. And we’re feeling the transplant. When we transplanted our Wisteria back in Vernon Hills, they told us to expect that some of the leaves would die and fall off, that the damage will take some time to heal, and that it may take years for the vines to bloom. Now I understand. 

But, the soil is good. I’m in a new office with a great new group of coworkers. I was given a shepherd’s crook by my new flock, and it stares at me as I write this, expectantly. Danielle is thriving in her new work. We’re hunting for a home, unpacking the last boxes, and doing our best to adjust to our new ground. We’ll need a lot of water, a lot of sun, and plenty of time. But we trust we will bloom.

Two things come to mind I want to share with you from this week: 

The Flint of My Heart

“Tremble, O earth, at the presence of the Lord, 

            At the presence of the God of Jacob, 

Who turns the rock into a pool of water, 

            The flint into a spring of water.” (Psalm 114:7-8) 

I read this as part of our nightly psalm reading. I was feeling particularly dry at the moment, and for some reason I found myself praying, “God, produce springs of water out of the flint that is my heart.” God is not bound by times and weariness. I tremble at his power and humble myself before him, asking that what seems in the moment a drought would in fact lead to new streams of joy. 

For the Bereaved

I met a wonderful old saint on Sunday. She’d lost her husband of over sixty years, and her grief laid heavily on her. As I prayed for her, I felt my pen pick up a new tune: 

To love and have lost
is to have truly lived. 
Yet eternity rings 
in His last breath; 
“It Is Finished” reveals 
that those milldam tears
will be undone and
his supper will not 
lessen but deepen
that bond that felt
in each successive moment
an eternity in itself. 

Here’s a recording of how this poem, my first penned as Pastor of Lena EFC, should be read: 

God’s grace to you today.