Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Consisting in Him

 And He is before all things, and in Him all things consist. -- Colossians 1:17

The photo above is of a scene in the mountains that has become a memorial for me, a remembrance.  To get to that vista is but a short stroll from our cabin.  Almost without fail, M. and I take that walk at least once during our latest visit (and sometimes every day of our stay) to sit on the bench there and drink in this view, sometimes in quiet, sometimes in reflective conversation, sometimes in a spirited dialogue about an engaging topic.  The scene differs little each time we see it - of course, the seasons alter it a bit as autumn leaves color, snowflakes fall down and rainstorms cause the creek to rise and fall. Yet, as a whole, it scarcely changes.

And I am always struck anew by the scene's sameness, its immutability.  No matter what has taken place in my life during the interim I've been away from it, no matter how unsettling or exhausting, my vista remains the same.  No matter what has taken place in the world at large, whether a new war, a new president, a new epidemic - still, my scene doesn't change.  The creek continues to flow, the birds continue to sing, the ducks continue to bob on the tiny waves, the mountain remains firmly in place.

I so often have it in my head that life will fall apart if I don't make it happen.  And the realization that the existence of that little mountain valley continues proceeding without a lick of help on my part creates a humility that nearly undoes me.  My self-importance is shattered when I recognize that the seeming chaos of life isn't as big as I make it out to be.  The water keeps flowing.  And in the Savior all things consist.

And so, as Scripture so often admonishes, I have created a memorial to remember to not forget.  I have placed that photo on my screen saver, where every morning the sight of it will remind me that there is a place that continues to exist by the hand of God.  And in seeing that scene, I want to remember that not only is life contained by Him in that quiet place - but that it flows by His hand in whatever whirlwind I happen to find myself that day.  In Him, not Julie, all things consist.

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