Jn. 13:20
It's the time of year when each day is a microcosm of the changing season. The mornings are so chilly you need a sweatshirt, but by 10:00 the air is sweltering and you'll find your cheeks pinked by the sun and your shirt sticky with sweat. Fall crawls in, but summer holds on tight.
We enjoyed a hot afternoon at the baby pool this week before Fall finally defeated Summer. |
About a year ago I was in a Sunday School class where the unchanging nature of God was described. I had never considered this in any detail and since being encouraged to think about it, it's been a frequent source of comfort. When I change my mind, when I learn something new, when I develop a fresh way of doing a normal task, or begin to think differently about an ordinary part of my life, I remember this lesson about God not changing. He never gets a better idea or loses interest in something or becomes aware of a new facet to a difficult situation. If he did, perhaps all of the plants on the planet would be dead because one day God lost his passion for keeping the growing things alive. Or maybe he would suddenly realize that it would be much better if humans had been created to fly and we'd all wake up with the itchy sprouts of wings between our shoulder blades. Or He might decide this world has gotten so muddled up that it would really be better to start over, so Earth would just spiral into the sun while He built a new world elsewhere and set His affections there instead.
Change, often, is to our benefit. The changing of seasons is certainly refreshing. And a change in scenery or in daily routine can be rejuvenating. Our life circumstances shift, our moods and interests vary, our communities of friends ebb and flow. But change at other times is heart-breaking, stressful, discouraging, and even terrifying. We can't escape the fact that change comes, yet our hearts instinctively want something that won't change. God's nature provides a foundation of security as we roll through a life that is largely unpredictable. He doesn't tell us what's next, but He promises to be there and to be the same there as He is here: attentive to our needs, compassionate and forgiving, sovereign, loving, and good. In the flux between seasons, it's comforting to rest in someone who will always be the same.
Grateful this week for:
skillet sizzles
cool morning air
baby cheeks
tomato vine scent
picnic table
shopping bargains
an unprompted gift from my husband
the sound of a toddler and his daddy, giggling all the way up the stairs
book-reading on the porch swing
jazz on the radio while I clean up from dinner
a new wireless keyboard and mouse
a lost toy, found
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