[Selah.]

Random musings written several days ago:

As I am sitting in the lounge this morning and watching the wind outside, I am reminded not of fall or the first of this new month, but of Central America. It’s the humidity – heavy and warm – and the movement of lush greenness and many leaves swaying together. There’s a smell to it, too; a warm earth and heavy air smell. After all this time, my heart is still there. (Heme aquí, yo iré Señor.)

This morning I read the Utmost for His Highest entry. In it, Chambers speaks of the importance of being the broken bread and the poured out wine. I ask for this to be true in my life, though I know how painful it might be – bread torn and grapes crushed with heavy fingers.  Yet I also feel my meager trust growing when I look back on the past and see what beautiful things He has worked out in my life. Slow refinement.

My professor often repeats the word “Selah.” The end of a Psalm, an affirmation, an amen. This verse is fitting for the moment: “Every morning, I lay out the pieces of my life on Your altar and watch for fire to descend.” (Psalm 5:3, The Message.) I feel like I need to re-surrender like this each day. Otherwise, I allow my interactions with others to fill me. I orbit my happiness around people...and since when did I lose so many of my introverted tendencies? When I read these words, my first instinct was to say, “selah.” I ask to be taught, I ask God to shape me, and somehow I am still surprised to hear Him speak like this. It made me pause. Oh. Thank you, Lord. Selah.