Showing posts with label soul shall be satisfied. Show all posts
Showing posts with label soul shall be satisfied. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 24, 2018

All who wander are not lost.


They wandered in the wilderness in a solitary way; they found no city to dwell in.
Hungry and thirsty, their soul fainted in them.
 Then they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and He delivered them out of their distresses.
And He led them forth by the right way, that they might go to a city of habitation.
Oh that men would praise the Lord for His goodness, and for His wonderful works to the children of men!
For He satisfieth the longing soul, and filleth the hungry soul with goodness. Psalm 107:4-9

Hans and I put in eleven long hours yesterday.

And it was all the detail stuff, hooking up the brand-new gas stove. Plugging in the coolest refrigerator I have ever seen. Touching up the paint job for the fourth time. Hitting some hidden spots in the built-in bookcases. Tightening the bathroom cupboard doors. And dousing the endless forests of wood detailing and doors with Murphy’s Oil Wood Soap, scraping at dozens and dozens of paint drops with our fingernails because that is really the only thing that works: 98 years of paint drops.

I know that my favorite thing about 39 is the fig tree sheltering the north-facing front porch. And every single day it bursts out bigger and greener and fuller of fruit. And oh yeah, the two huge flowering pomegranate trees and the flowering vines climbing everywhere.













For the LORD your God is bringing you into a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and springs, flowing forth in valleys and hills; a land of wheat and barley, of vines and fig trees and pomegranates. Deuteronomy 8:7


And I walked home last night from the song and dance and poetry and shadow theatre celebration of the Barrio Stories. And oh yeah, little girls in braids were rolling out tortillas to be cooked on a lid-from-a-fifty-gallon drum colmal, and even though they swelled up mightily, I gotta say that -four-year-old Anita’s tortillas were rounder and bubbled up even bigger. And I had to resist the temptation to take away the wooden pin and show them how it’s done. I have rolled a lot of tortillas in my day.

And the streets were very quiet and very dark, and I could see the bright stars and the quarter moon up above. Which reminded me of other peoples and other promises that were made as they gazed upward. And today I read in Exodus how Moses set up the tabernacle that declared God’s presence in their midst… and he reared up the tabernacle, and fastened his sockets, and set up the boards thereof, and put in the bars thereof…which sounds an awful lot like Hans putting together my brand-new gold brushed steel frame bed, except four of the screws broke on him. 

And when Moses finished his work, the cloud of the presence of the LORD descended and filled that place.

Dear LORD God, I know not the future. But I trust that You are faithful, and You satisfy the longing soul and fill the hungry soul with goodness. 

I praise You for Your wonderful works beyond my understanding. I welcome You into my home. Fill this place with Your presence. I will fix my eyes on the cloud of Your glory and trust You for the right way.

Selah.




Wednesday, February 13, 2013

But my flesh is so weak


O God, You are my God;
Early will I seek You;
My soul thirsts for You;
My flesh longs for You
In a dry and thirsty land
Where there is no water.
So I have looked for You in the sanctuary,
To see Your power and Your glory.  Psalm 62:1-2

At first I thought it was a little awkward to say that my flesh longs for Him, my God.  I get the soul part, the spiritual child-of-God in me, longing for oneness, but flesh is such an awkward, raw sort of word. Literally.

No one ever really used the flesh-colored crayon in our Crayola box of 64.  It remained pointy and unbroken.  Awkward.

But now I get it.  All the humanness parts of me that will never find comfort and settledness no matter what.  All the parts that just, just is going to be the qualifying word I imagine for this whole section, just wants everyone to be happy and get along, just wants to kiss the boo boo and make it all better, just wants to curl up by the fire and read a good book.  But life is not like that.

Perhaps my soul soars over the snow-covered Catalinas upward and outward, following close behind Him, but my flesh is restless.  Seeking and squirming.  

My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness, but for my flesh, this is not my home.  A thirst cannot be quenched where there is no water.  I must look elsewhere.  

His lovingkindness is better than life.