For many of you, A rough year may describe the one just past: For some, I know such to be true, as I have heard your wails and I have seen your tears. Though un-shed may have been your soul-fountain, and though you were of the notion that none could see or feel the lashing rain, I knew. I weep now as I recall your blanched face and the dimming of your glistening vision, though well you rallied and held up splinters of hope for us to see. Of others, I know none of your grief, yet reel in the conviction of its being so, for the passage of years have attuned me to life and I know of its disappointments and acknowledge its raw pain.
The past months have been ragged, startling in their happenings and outcomes, laying shadows of uncertainty over your bearing line so that your future is greyed, and the clarity that was before is now muted and ill-focused. Strange, for your intentions were good, and though imperfection is acknowledged, trial and ordeal of such degree were unexpected. They seem unfair.
So often and so glibly their telling rolls from our tongues that I fear we may forget the adventure and passion involved in Biblical accounts. Think of Noah. God was so angry with the very people He had created that He planned to drown them every one, along with every other creature that inhabited the earth. Noah, however, was so different from the wicked around him that he found grace in the eyes of the Lord, and God spoke a plan to save Noah and his family. Build an ark, God said, and following God’s explicit plan, Noah did just that. When he was 600 years old, the ark was finished, his loved ones were safely aboard, and the rain began.
It was a strange experience for Noah. Never before had rain fallen. Lightening and thunder were no doubt unknown. Now came savage, pouring water that never stopped for 40 days and for 40 nights. The heavens opened. The fountains of the deep were broken up. Wild waters rose, and that wooden ark was flung about, heaving up and down among the seething fury of God. Dead animal bodies and human bodies with streaming hair and sightless eyes floated and were cast about . . . and Noah endured the dark, the unknown, the treacherous. Having found grace with God, Noah suffered and endured.
Jump to chapter 8, verse 1 of Genesis.
And God remembered Noah…
. . . and God made a wind to pass over the earth, and the waters assuaged.
God had not abandoned Noah. He was not forsaken. God remembered; knew to infinite degree His plan for Noah. Verse 15 tells that after a time of the waters receding, God spoke to Noah and told him to leave the ark.
Gathering his family, Noah left the wretched vessel. In the doorway of the ark, he no doubt stood and surveyed the earth that had been wrenched apart by nature, by God. One thing was clear, though: Noah was still standing. Despite the rubble about him, despite the stench and disarray, Noah was still standing. The storm had been fearful, the screams of those dying around him would forever ring in his ears, the heaving and breaking of the earth beneath him were indescribable. Yet, he and his family had survived. They were alive to go forth, to deal with their world.
You, also, are still standing. You have endured. Your disappointments may be midnight black and of such degree that no one may ever know their depth. Yet, you stand. You survive. You live.
I suspect that you are of the nature of Noah, and that you will follow his example as he led his family to an earthen spot, where of the debris and the wreckage he found what he needed and there built an altar to God. Selecting clean animals, Noah burned sacrifices to his God.
God watched, and it was sweetness to Him.
I have been writing this blog for several years now, and it astounds me that this site has been viewed more than one million times. I’m humbled and grateful for your interest.
In recent months, though, there have been substantially less visits here, and very little interaction–few comments. I’m thinking a couple of reasons account for this: First, I have been posting less here and more frequently on Facebook, often with a link to a post here. I like Facebook, quickly hear what my friends are doing some days, and have made connection with people I hadn’t heard from in years. That’s all nice, but there is a lack of depth to Facebook, and not frequently do persons engage in thoughtful and a bit deeper conversations. Also, when comments are made on Facebook about a blog post here, they feel “lost” to me. They are not posted with the article in question, and take lots of scrolling around to find them.
So, because I enjoy writing, and because I especially enjoy your interaction, I’ve decided to no longer routinely link my articles to Facebook, and am hoping to increase traffic here. I may pop over to your place with a link every now and then as an invitation to come visit me here. Remember that you can subscribe to this blog so that you will be notified when I make a new post.
I want to hear from you. Please comment when you have interest about something I’ve written.
Blessings always…and a wonderful new year!