Further Up, Further In

Meditation time yesterday was awesome.
I was listening to cello music and meditating on the music and it felt like I was back at the Shire -- that kind of music just inspired my imagination to jump to the Shire. And all of a sudden, I was. I was standing in the midst of my favorite field at night, walking steadily through the grass barefoot, towards the moon. As I was walking, I felt a star fall above me, and it's brightness enveloped me. Not only did it cover me, it kept an unbroken line between me and the star in the sky. I kept walking, but I noticed other figures sprouting up around me; other people in my life. One by one, they were enveloped by their own falling star's bluish-white light.
While meditating, I lazily wondered what the falling star could mean. With a jolt, I broke out of meditation with the idea of the Biblical character Abraham in my head. The age-old covenant: "I will make your descendants greater than the stars..."
I am promised to God's ancient covenant with Abraham, my ancestor. I am a descendant of Abraham, bought through the covenant blood of Christ. I am one of the stars in the sky, walking steadily towards the moon (in my little mind the moon represents Christ) with fellow brothers and sisters.
What a beautiful God we share, brothers and sisters. Let's continue walking in the solid comfort of the covenant of Christ. Further up, further in!

Learning

I am in a constant state of learning. I am in a constant state of awe.
God has sat me down on his lap, with a big book in his hands, and is reading aloud to me as I laugh with glee at the excitement of the story and of the experience of being taught.
Jesus has been prodding my heart more and more everyday to read more about Him and about His ministry in the gospels. And I've been LOVING it. When I'm stressed or frustrated I can easily take a step back, close my eyes, and let my imagination take me to the Shire, where I find my Savior waiting for me with open arms and a smile of love.
He has so much to teach me, and I'm so willing to learn. Lately I've been sluggishly reading through the Book of John. The reading has been slow because I want to truly relish what Jesus said and taught. Instead of thinking things like, "Jesus was mysterious; I should be mysterious and stuff, too" my mind has begun changing into a different mindset; a mindset of automatically looking towards the root of the matter and how Jesus dealt with it, how Jesus taught it, and how then I can conform to Jesus in love and awe. It's difficult, but fun.

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Once, months ago, I was a child sitting alone in a forest trying to convince herself that even though she had no idea where she was, she was alright. And that she wasn't alone. Months ago, I was a child sobbing in a vast wilderness, crying out for help, for security, for comfort, for LOVE. Weeks ago, I found a hand dripping with blood that took my tiny hand and lead me out of that wilderness and into a fenced-off area. I realized that the fence wasn't a barrier keeping me from the wilderness, but that the fence was a strong protector guarding a precious treasure from the wilderness. Not only was it protecting me, but I finally knew something I never knew before. I knew where I was. I knew that I was home. And though sometimes I wander back into the grey wilderness, I can still find that fence; I can still find my home.

Art

Jesus scribbled in the sand. No one knows what he drew or wrote, but everytime I read that passage I audibly groan in frustration because I want to know so desperately what the King of Kings bent down to write in the sands that day.
I wish I could be present there, just to peek over His shoulder and see. But, knowing Jesus, he would probably just be swirling his finger in the dirt to make squiggles and then He'd look up at me and laugh at the look of childish disappointment on my face. "Come on, Katie," He'd say, straightening up. "You're focusing too much on my drawing. That's not why it was drawn."
And then I'd look up, and see the entire situation: the Pharisees annoyed by Jesus's playing in the sand, the woman thrown into the dirt, the 10 words Jesus spoke so poignantly: "He who is without sin may cast the first stone." The words are what matter; the message is what matters. The drawing is just another utensil.
This morning, I realize that my mind and art needs to conform more to Jesus. It's all about the message, not the visible form.

Today is just glorious. What a beautiful God we have.