Ceramics

Starbucks. Sunshine. Reading. Urine? I have to pee but am much too lazy to venture the short distance toward the ladies’ room as I’ve entered my second hour of sitting. I came to sit and read the first chapter of Richard Sibbes’ The Bruised Reed to prepare for Saturday’s first meeting for this particular book and read it, I did. I’m excited to discuss it on Saturday and go on to pursue the next chapter to ready my brains for the following week. I very much so love reading and even more so do I enjoy growing and learning with people who love to do so also. Through enduring the first chapter, I now understand what the bruised reed, which is descriptively used in Isaiah 42:1-3, means in it’s relation to Christ and it’s holding of that meaning and understanding with the rest of the workings of my life.

The thoughts I’ve battled through because of that thing that is my life have been throwing me all out of craziness lately. My housemates and I have had many deep discussions on singleness (the place that I am currently dwelling) and the effects that my thoughts have had on my heart through this season. I’ve reacted to friends’ relationship statuses quite raunchily, if you will, loving said singleness and creating quite an idol out of it. The pain that has come from my sin and the sin of others has such an effect on the way I understand reality. For example, the depth of marriage gives me the willies. I am quick to be overwhelmed when dealing with my own self and throw another human into the intimacies of my life and I don’t know that I can handle it. I am slow to allow Christ to outweigh those inadequacies even though I have been granted the gift of knowing Christ to have a stronger, better effect on my heart.

The conversations I’ve had with my roommates have been that which God has used to bruise me, to remind me of the fact that I am merely a reed and am not a strong, self-sufficient oak tree. I am utterly dependant on Christ and the grace he’s given me. I am incredibly blessed with friends who care for me deeply, reminding me that Jesus is better than all things and that there is hope for the relationships that I’ve not yet experienced. I’ve only dated one fella and it was for a very short time; I don’t have the experience of knowing the companionship of marriage or that even of a blooming courtship. Because I am not a wife, I know not the ways I’ll respect my husband, consider him worthy of my submission, or desire the partnership with him. I’ll not ever feel those things until I enter the scary door of marriage. To some extent I’ll fear the union until who knows when but God has put me in a place where He’ll remind me of His goodness. Sometimes I think of myself as that big, established oak tree without realizing He’s there. But I am a reed that must be bruised, a weak little lady who must be reminded of his graciousness. I am glad to be bruised in the ways that He knows to be necessary. He is the Potter, I am merely the clay.