A Coffee and Some (Peaceful) Disorder Friday
To my vantage point, I have barely inched past the starting line for Ze Book. The Evernote notebook I have set up for it would show I’ve taken at least a few steps, but in terms of words on the page, of plans formed and characters sketched, I am floundering. Usually I could count on a little side project of mine – a fan fiction story mash-up involving the television worlds of House, M.D. and Doctor Who – to provide a respite of sorts. But even that fails me as I’ve determined to bring the story to its conclusion and the main two characters are proving tricky to write in such a scenario. At least these past two weeks they have been.
It’s fitting, then, the calendar in my office has for the month of September a picture of an old typewriter captioned “Start with this moment” and I find myself thinking isn’t that life? Is that not our days, each tick of the clock? We start, over and over and over again with the moment squarely in front of us? Because I cannot do a blessed thing to change what has been. Nor can I dictate what the future will bring. But this moment, here, I can do something with. Even a hesitant step is movement, is progress. And when I remember that, I better see the progress that has been made. I see the steps, the moments captured on pages and in bits-and-bytes. It has often happened in fits and starts, yes. But I’m not where I was when I started.
There has been progress. There is room, even in the midst of (at times) seeming chaos, for a breath, for peace, for movement.
Yesterday was, in a fashion, a chaotic one, wrestling as I was with where I was compared to where I long to be. So the following passage of Scripture became my anchor point, and I wrote it out on a sticky note and kept it where I could see it throughout the workday:
“For God is not a God of disorder but of peace …” -1 Corinthians 14:33a (NLT)
It had struck me earlier this week when I read it how it was not “God is not a God of disorder but of order” because that would seem to be the logical conclusion, right? Rather, it’s disorder trumped by peace; as if the apostle Paul is reminding readers then (and now) there will be stormy seas, but still you can sleep in the midst of them as Jesus did one night on the Sea of Galilee. There was definitely disorder in the wind and the waves, but Jesus had such a peace that it was finally His disciples who roused Him. And why did He sleep? Because He knew in a deep, steadying way God would see them through safely to their destination even when chaos surrounded.
So even I, in the chaos of change and work and dreams and realities, can know peace.
Happy Friday. And may you know peace even in your disorderly circumstances.