What lasts?

Back to that thought about the wise man building his house on the rock. Conforming his 'house' to the shape of the rock. And then the house will be unshakable no matter how high the water rises, or how hard the wind blows. And that's what we want. Really. We really don't want things to go our way. It's just that we think out things and figure that our plan is a pretty good one and will endure the strains of life. We aren't the wisest life-constructors and shouldn't really trust all of our instincts.

I read this quotation this morning: "Genuine faith is tested by suffering; false faith will be lost. And that is a gift; the sooner the better."

At first I thought it was sort of mean...like, get the posers out of the room! But then I realized that it is a kind gift of God to expose in my life where my faith is not real. Where I have a different hope than a hope in God. Where I have 'heard God's words and didn't do them' and shortcutted my house/life's foundation in shifting sand. Because He knows that storms and wind will blast my life. He knows how hard my house/life will be shaken. And He cares that my house/life will be tested and found genuine. The sooner I find a false faith, the sooner I can re-orient myself to God.

Piper says, 'if all hell breaks lose in your life and you struggle with unbelief, it is a good to take the time to re-believe.' A good time, indeed.

Perspective

People who know more than I do about babies claim that babies can see but don't understand perspective. That when they look up and see the rail of the crib, and the rocking chair beside the crib and the door on the other side of the room, it looks like they are flat objects all touching each other. Like photographs piled on top of each other. And that being true, that the crib rail is bigger than the chair or the door. Because it looks bigger to the baby.

(Wait a minute. Babies can't tell you that. They can't talk. So how did 'they' come up with that?)

But for the sake of my ponderings I will assume that this is a real phenomenon. Because it happens to me and I am all grown up. Whatever is closest to me fills my vision. Consumes my thoughts. Takes my energy. Dominates my conversations. Like right now? Ryan and Ashley are getting married and there are shower and receptions details that are delightful and complicated and the dates are looming closer and I talk about this ALL the time.

Or I recently spoke with my oncologist's office. And the January dates for the next round of tests looms up large. It is not filling my vision yet, but I think it will because it has in the past.

And all of a sudden I am ready to try something different. I don't like the play when the entire stage is full of cancer props. I am thinking that there can be a way to make that just one of the things I have in view and not just the only thing. To adapt the landscape of my thinking will require some creative thought, though. And I believe I will start with poster size views of my amazing Redeemer. Perhaps song lyrics and verses blown up super large. That just might help crowd out the unattractive and unappealing characters that occupy my view.