Your move, chief

I was riding the Purple Line express back home today and realized that I really enjoy getting those quick peeks into the buildings that the train passes in the downtown area.

I like catching glimpses of people running on treadmills, boxing heavy bags, studying for exams, working in their cubicles... I don't know why really. I just like it.

Then I realized that my knowledge of these people was limited to those fleeting seconds that I was allowed to see them. The woman on the treadmill is...a runner. The guy boxing the heavy bag is...a boxer. The people studying in the Kaplan room are...students. The people working in cubicles are...office drones.

But would I ever dare to claim that I knew these people? Absolutely not!

Then why do I do this with God?

Why do I presume to know God, sufficiently, after just...a good sermon on a Sunday, a good time spent reading the Bible and praying, a good retreat or revival...after such short, meager portions?

Our infinite God can't be so easily and quickly known - but our comfort is that he knows us. This is why, I think, Paul paused to clarify his meaning in Galatians 4:9, when he said, "But now that you know God—or rather are known by God—how is it that you are turning back to those weak and miserable principles?" (NIV, emphasis added)

He knows us - not in snapshots, but in an unflinching fullness. He sees our best, worst and most mundane moments and still, he loves us.

How can I be so content with such brief glimpses of this God?

In closing, I would like to share this clip (my favorite) from "Good Will Hunting," which, I think, highlights my point. It includes some coarse language, but we're all adults here.

I heart Brooke Fraser

Need I say more?

But I shall.

I had a long day. I won't complain about it, but it was one of the tougher ones for a wuss like me. The story I was working on felt a bit forced, not many people wanted to be interviewed and my throat was bothersome (though it made my voice sound really cool - or so methinks).

As I was getting ready to exit the train at Main Street, my phone's music player (on shuffle) began playing "Shadowfeet" by Brooke Fraser and I couldn't help but smile.

Just as I took my first steps onto the platform, Ms. Fraser sang this beauty of a chorus:

When the world has fallen out from under me
I'll be found in you, still standing
When the sky rolls up and mountains fall on their knees
When time and space are through
I'll be found in you

I've always loved this song, but it had a new fragrance tonight.

I'm tempted to unload all of my run-on thoughts here, but I'll keep this short.

In a world where so many foundations are crumbling, I take great comfort to see that my sanity is still maintained (for the most part).

This is why, in retrospect, I count all my foundation-shaking sorrows as blessings, because at the very least they withdrew whatever faulty planks I was standing on and forced me to see that my foundation was poor.

I do not claim to have ever exited the better end of a struggle reassured of my enduring stance on Christ's foundation. In fact, I confess to you, honestly, that each and every one of my heart-rending hardships has shown me that my feet are ever wandering to other foundations.

Though I can't say for certain whether this will change during this lifetime, I take great comfort in imagining the day when after all the world has fallen away, "out from under me," and I will, for the first time, find that I am standing on him - in him.

The goosebumps I feel now for that thought's sake won't even compare...

"Why do you call me 'Lord, Lord,' and not do what I tell you? Everyone who comes to me and hears my words and does them, I will show you what he is like: he is like a man building a house, who dug deep and laid the foundation on the rock. And when a flood arose, the stream broke against that house and could not shake it, because it had been well built. But the one who hears and does not do them is like a man who built a house on the ground without a foundation. When the stream broke against it, immediately it fell, and the ruin of that house was great." - Luke 6:46-49

'Til I only dwell in thee

One thing I love about seeing the ground covered by inches of snow is knowing that the green grass hidden underneath still lives and will be revealed again.

I am yearning for spring.