musings in the dark.

It was dark but for the lights strategically placed for mood. The boat cut through the clear, cool water silently. Drip, Drip. My mind began working. All around me thousands upon thousands of years of creation made for this moment. I peered over the edge of the metal raft thinking to myself the moment could only be topped if Aztec gold glimmered in the depths or if the pirates I knew lurked in the darkness would show themselves. The man at the rear guided us through a narrow passage and into a cavern that caught my breath in my throat. Stalagmites and Stalactites, noble and silent, perfectly placed around the room. Like melted wax and ogre sized mushrooms they stood. Legends. Centuries and Centuries old. They were even before the redemption of mankind was set in motion. Drip, Drip. My mind began working.  God is a God of patience, and I am not. I am not a God. and I am not patient. One stalagmite only a foot long witnessed over 10,000 years in that cavern. As I drifted along in that chilly cavern feel very small and left alone to my thoughts I began my musing. 10,000 years for a foot of waxy looking folds and rolls. He is a patient God. and I am not. He has eternity in his hand - eternity to see his creations through.

Sometimes I get angry that life is so short. I want more time to experience beauty through the pain and loss of this world. I find that we appreciate life more through the lens of affliction. I know it sounds twisted and perhaps a bit dark but it's the contemplation of my heart. There are times when I think I would rather stay eternity in this broken world if only to appreciate the glimpses of his inherent goodness and creativity that much more. We are a broken people. A hurting people. A poor and war torn people.. but we are beautifully made. Uniquely and beautifully made.

I have a hard time believing we would appreciate the beauty of creation if not for the contrasting darkness we experience. Sometimes I get angry because life is so short.. if only because I want eternity to experience art through the eyes of the broken. Or create art through the eyes of the broken.

How would I express who I am and what I've seen if I had 10,000 years to do it? How would I express who He is if I had eternity?

Broken. Broken. Centuries upon Centuries of brokenness.

We will not always be broken. We will spend eternity restored.