The Life That Lives

"Begin to know Him now" -- Oswald.

Begin. How many times do I want to reach the end before I've even begun? I seem to hate process. I look at my garden and all I can see is how far it is from what I have envisioned in my head -- the end result. My 12-year-old daughter, however, looked at the wild, overgrown, weed-filled corner of my backyard the other day and said, "Wow! It's like a fairy garden." That's exactly, exactly what I want -- a place of beauty and imagination and discovery. She could see it. I could not.

Begin. I want to have written. I hate to write. It is a painstaking, risk-filled endeavor for me. I avoid it and struggle over it and despise (as much as I try to be a good sport and keep my chin up) the editing/critiquing process. I like to read a well-written piece and realize, somewhat surprisingly, that I wrote it.

Begin. I want to know God, to walk with him in the garden -- to laugh and exchange ideas and be absolutely enveloped by his unmistakable love -- but this relationship-building process is hard and fraught with both frustration and confusion.

Luke 24:45, a few verses before the one attached to today's reading on being infused with power, states: "Then he opened their minds so they could understand the Scriptures."

The disciples had been with Jesus for three years. They had seen him perform miracles. Peter, James and John had seen him transfigured. They had heard him teach the truth on a daily basis. They ate with him, walked beside him, questioned him. They saw him die -- water and blood flowing from his side -- and now, in this passage, they saw him standing before them eating grilled fish. And still, he had to open their minds.

I cannot expect to skip over the entire evolution and reach the end. Love the process, Barb. The messy, sometimes joyful, sometimes maddening and always real process.

Begin.