A Tiny Comfort

On Sunday I went to church.  Normally this wouldn't be strange but it's been awhile for me, for a multitude of reasons that sum up to be no more than monumental excuses.  It was a small sanctuary, quilts littering the sea of white.  It was comforting, though I had a feeling this wasn't quite the fit for me.

The service started and hymns were sung, readings were read, and prayers were prayed.  The deeper I got into the service, the more I had to continually bring my focus back into reality.  My mind kept wandering to so many other things, and it wasn't until half way through the sermon did I realize just how distracted I had become.  It hit me like a ton of bricks--the vines of my stresses, worries, and distractions had crawled up around me and fought for my attention.  The worship song began, and suddenly I had never felt so small.  Diminutive.  Microscopic.  Infinitesimal.  At that moment I felt the lilliputian role I played in the oh-so-giant universe, the shocking-but-not-so-shocking insignificance of myself when standing in the presence of the omnipotent God.

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There's a little house that always had a yard of blooming flowers on a walk I've done since I was little.  The owner (a little old lady) 9x/10 would be digging in her garden, looking up each time I walked by to give a friendly greeting and a smile as bright as the sunshine.  I walked that same route  tonight and found the house in shambles.  All of the windows were removed and the sides boarded up, the garden had been stripped of its flowers, and the house had been gutted of all life.  I stood there in shock, scanning my eyes over the dilapidated house, the sky overcast and looking like it wanted to rain but was too tired to do so.  It was a blatant reminder of just how much things change as life goes on.  I had a vision of this little town hundreds of years from now, unrecognizable to what I know it to be.  Each and every one of us gone and forgotten, buildings in ruin as the life that once was had been but a ghostly memory.

What do these two stories have in common?

"The grass withers and the flowers fade, but the Word of God stands forever."

There will never be a straight answer in this life, there will always be one's interpretation and one's own convictions to lead them.  I don't think we're left alone though, I think we have people around us to help us, intellect to know when to listen and when to leave, and one's soul to stay connected with the One who made us.  This life will pass away, we may be forgotten, but the beautiful reality is that God doesn't forget us, and that's all that really matters.

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