Refuge & Joy

A day spent at home. The air is cold and the wind sends rain splashing up against my window. I can't believe this weather we're having, but I can't help but feel thankful for it. The back patio looks like a still pond, except for the semi-constant patterings of rain. The house is empty except for my family pets: a dog who is curled up on his pillow and a cat who is busy preening herself outside my bedroom door. I love the sound I'm greeted with in my empty house. The soft pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof, a brisk breath of wind, and the crackling of wood burning in the fireplace. Even the lighting is subdued, a peaceful melancholy. The dark sky casts an almost blue hue in the living room, which gets even darker in places of the house where drapes are loosely drawn. Golden embers are a welcome comfort from the corner of the living room.

I choose the couch closest to the fireplace, relishing its warmth. My bare feet still cause me to shiver against the cool sighs of the house, so I search for socks. Maybe it's the laziness of the morning, but I don't think to care whether these socks match. I don one blue and one pink. They're warm, however. While I'm up, I pull two books off of my shelf along with my Bible at my nightstand. A pen is necessary too, I think. My arms full, I pull a blanket across my shoulders like a cloak and return once more to the haggard old couch.

I'm uncertain of my intentions. Time to write, time to read, time to reflect...? The day is before me, but I do not know the hour. There are no plans ahead of me today. There are no interruptions to be expected. There's just my couch, and the knowledge of a open day. I find myself praying with tears, mimicking the rain outside. They are joyful tears. Tears of understanding that I am loved and forgiven, even though I make mistakes over and over again. Tears because I am a sinner, and I don't deserve this love, but He gives it to me freely.

My prayer brings me to a longing for His word. I feel suddenly parched, as if I have traveled days through the desert without water. I'm moved again to tears by the words He shows me there. New soundings of His desire for my life: to discover what pleases Him (Ephesians 5:10). It is like drinking water, an awakening to the re-realization of His calling for my life, and I am overcome with humility, desire, and passion to become more and more like Christ.

I can't begin to tell you how quick it takes for temptations and doubts to creep at me from the shadows, but His word is my sword. He is my refuge. And they return back to their dark corners, as fleeting crows who have no place to feed. It is in his quiet escape from the busy world, from work, from pressures... that I feel renewed and untouchable. While these times are not frequent, I pray that I might seek His refuge daily, despite my circumstances. I pray that I won't allow myself to journey so long in the desert when I have access to replenishment all of the time. What an amazing thought... He does not hide from me!

The following hours (I think) I spend reading, being encouraged by The Word and words of those who desire to discuss the Truth. Periodically, I stoke the fire and add more firewood, then I re-nestle beneath my blanket and continue to allow God's Truth to penetrate my heart. I find myself so overcome with joy and appreciation constantly, and I can't help but tilt back my head, my eyes smiling up through the skylight, through the frigid downpour...

It's like a song I'd like to hear played over and over again. Murmured words of thankfulness, rain chiming against glass window panes, warm light humming, a rustle of pages turning, the beating of a heart of one who knows they are ever-so loved... "you call forth songs of joy" (Ps. 65:8).