Written on June 1, 2016.
From a little town in a big world, I write this morning. Sun streaming, mist moving and creation caroling. Nestled in my secret spot, I am surrounded not by the what the world is, but the what is to come. Rest on every side, beauty in every space. A tapestry of truth that the God I know, the Lord I love, is always moving Heaven on behalf of earth. I sit wrapped in a blanket, warmed by the sun, taking my place to move earth on behalf of Heaven. To meet in the middle with what crashes through me and courses through Him.
Encompassed by formation and foundation, I feel a bit regal. Slightly royal. Placed perfectly in a world that is not imperfect, but simply poised for perfecting. My portion and cup before me along with an invitation to rule and reign with a King. My king. Our palace, a porch.
I love porches. I used to collect pictures of them and paste them in scrapbooks. I suppose I always had a knowing that life is different upon a porch. Breaths go deeper, thoughts go wider. With one step, one leaves behind the chores to be done and accounts to be balanced and enters a place where there are prayers to be prayed, books to be read, stories to be told and conversations to be carried.
A porch should always be entered with a cup of something steamy or savory. It’s like a porch rule. Well, it should be anyway.
Porches can be much like a city gate. People are welcomed, business transacted and disputes settled. The power for it comes in stepping slightly outside of our world, into His. For, we often don’t know what is happening beyond us till we take the step before us. One step more and we realize it is raining, a cool breeze has come or the sun has broken through the cloudy day. We see differently, know differently when we break through the border of four walls and plod gently into a different perspective.
A porch is a lofty place, a lingering place, a loving place. A see what He sees, know what He knows and love who He loves place.
This morning, as I sit in a little swing upon a magnificent porch and terribly type (because I’m a terrible typer) I wonder to a distant land in a distant time. Timeless and tapping, I see five covered colonnades giving rest to lookless and lame, limp and left, withered and waiting. One man, a man upon a mat had been contained in his condition for thirty eight years. He waited for his turn in a pool as days became weeks and weeks months. What awaited him was a return.
A multitude waited for the waters to be stirred. What came was the fulfillment of passages.
The parched land shall become a pool, and the thirsty lands springs of water. Isaiah 35:7
I will open rivers on high places, and foundations in the midst of the valleys; I will make the wilderness a pool of water and the dry lands springs of water. Isaiah 41:18
For He did not invite them to step into the pool before them, but to be moved by the motion in them. When the pools were stirred, it was said that the waters were troubled or disturbed by the Almighty. Those words truly defined mean “to give life, to move to life.” There wasn’t just healing, but the revelation of how to live. Who to live for.
The man, thirty eight years in waiting had the motion of his mind troubled by Jesus. In an instant, he was invited to live. Differently. How long it had been since he progressed? Journeyed? Prior to the porch, alone. Presence on the porch, changed. Past the porch, a story to tell. Pools to call forth. Wildernesses to river. Parched to pour for.
You may not have a physical porch of wood and stone, but you do have a place where your perspective changes. Where your breaths go deeper and thoughts go wider. A place where He takes you from your trouble to your triumph. A place where He gives you a story to tell. Meet Him there, right in the middle of everything you thought you had to do. And invite Him to “trouble” your waters, change your perspective about something that is keeping you from moving, from motion.
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