A nearby house is an artful arrangement of squares, oblongs and triangles; it contrasts with the rolling land it sits on as if to say, “Look at my straight lines against the twists, bends, curves and waves of woods and fields gone wild.” The anomalous location of this house is as enigmatic as the straight lines imposed upon this painting of windblown grass and trees.
Similarly, linear, logical realities can collide with human experience and gut-deep instincts. I recently lost a dear close friend. I know he is gone. He flat-lined. His place is empty. He will not return to fill it—yet several of us who loved him have repeatedly sensed that he is near. His loving presence, his sweet spirit lingers on.
His nearness reminds me that Jesus’ death on the cross and continued presence is not logical either. Nor is His indwelling Holy Spirit linear. As Jesus told Nicodemus, “The wind blows where it will.”
My mind backs off from figuring out these super natural realities. I can’t. I am being pressed into accepting and living with revelation that is bigger than my boxes and lines, revelation big enough to hold conflicting joys and sorrows, lines and curves, absence and presence—all at the same time.
So, these last weeks of loss I’ve filled my hours with house cleaning— I’ve recycled unread magazines, sent boxes of clothes to the homeless, dropped off unused meds at the police station, shredded old receipts and filed away memorabilia in logical and linear organization and order. It feels forward-looking and safe when my own deepest thoughts and feelings—if I risk authentic creativity rather than parrot back what others have put into me or I expect they want to hear— might come out stormy, unpredictable and tumultuous.
Honesty is often surprising. We don’t know our own selves. So is living with God. He surprises us—with revelation and love. Right now, as one word follows the next, I don’t yet know what the next sentence or paragraph will reveal. I seek, rarely sure what word will be next. Likewise, as I respond to daily circumstances—stop for the next phone call, take a break to eat and perhaps wash up the dishes, I’m never totally sure of what’s next. Will a ray of sunlight through the window catch my attention, will a seemingly stray thought change my direction, will I turn up the music, stop to pet my dog, or get back to the computer. I’m retired now, not bound to finish tasks or hoop jump. My days can flow, not randomly, but searchingly, as I seek to follow the Holy Spirit’s lines of order through the twisting, bending, curving and wavering winds of my emotions, impulses and thoughts. I don’t know if my next moment will be one of blinding pain or rich with eye-opening gratitude and joy. Either way, trusting God and seeking to navigate by Him in ordinary circumstances brings a loving presence to warm my heart.
He is the way. Always. Everywhere. Our Creator God who made a world of curves and spheres, of loops and curls and changing winds gives us all straight lines for bricks and beams and boards, for window glass and roads. He calls us to fix our eyes upon His Son and to walk in straight and narrow paths of purity and love toward Him. No matter the turmoil, inside us or around us, His paths are bounded by His peace.
In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make straight your paths.
Psalm 3: 6 ESVLead me, O Lord, in your righteousness because of my enemies; make Your way straight before me. Psalm 5:89 ESV
. . . I will make them walk by brooks of water, in a straight path in which they shall not stumble. Jeremiah 31:9 ESV
John the Baptist said, “I am a voice of one crying in the wilderness, “Make straight the way of the Lord.” John 1:23
