I’m not sure what I’m doing here. This blog, this season of life, this place in the world, this mission.

I read and I write and I wonder why my soul needs to create when my mind is confident that there is nothing new under the sun and typically believes that I merely add to the noise. I draw inspiration, I draw scribbles on a page, I draw conclusions too quickly and I fight for logic, meaning and reason and simultaneously urge my mind to slow itself down and recognize the beauty and chaos that comes with the abstract. I look at how my life has been transformed as the months have whipped by, charging ahead with a graceless fury beyond control and unapologetic. Less than five years — marriage, college graduation, first jobs, a summer abroad, seminary, cancer, baby, life a blur and love engrained and there really is so much more than I’m able to say that I hesitate to say it at all.

I put pen to paper because millennia past tell of freedom, of clarity, of metamorphosis found in thoughts unchained from cerebral captivity. Perhaps each post will stitch a thread of calm into a mind that races, races, races and often forgets that the brakes offer themselves up to be applied, to help, to provide relief. The brakes that are all too often only used when nothing else will do, when rest is the only option because fatigue or hunger or fear or sadness will allow for nothing else. The brakes that should have been, that could have been applied 1000 miles, 100 days, 10 experiences ago and provided refreshment rather than finding themselves screeching to a halt, exhausting themselves in the effort to relieve my exhaustion with immediacy.

Finally, I can hear the whisper.

He has made me glad.

My heart rejoices with the Truth because the Truth is that He has come and I am free and life is full and death will die. My mind can rest because I am adopted and His name is my name and His holiness is my holiness and not my will but His be done. My soul sprouts wings and flies because He is near and the Spirit dwells within and in His presence is joy everlasting. My very being has essence because there is joy woven deep in the marrow of my bones and I could not have put it there because death and fear and apathy and hatred have been the mantra of my soul from conception and He has imputed His righteousness where there was none to be found. He made a way where there was no way. He is sacrifice and conqueror and resurrection and to Whom shall I go if not with Him?

So I stand upon the Rock and touch my toes to the water, I wrestle with the Man and will not let go without a blessing. I will know Him. I will crave Him and wonder at the mystery that He both creates the craving in me and fulfills it. I will touch my fingers to the keys and trust that He is in the business of making something out of nothing and surrender to the Christ who stands in the gap, the Christ who is our peace. Let it be so.