Maybe it's the rhythmic tinkling of the water over winter white porcelain. Or maybe it's the scent of lemongrass, clementine, rosemary, rainbow tinted bubbles slipping down toward the rain.
My kitchen sink. It's where I do a good bit of faith battling. Standing there watching the sun cast shards of shimmer across my very own picket fence, overgrown with ivy. On the sill? A smooth marbly rock, a little card holder forged out of pewter and a tiny hand-tossed aqua bowl.
In the rhythm of dish after dish, I fight the good fight. My enemy today? Emotions. My mind wanders and what I feel is true snakes up and throws whispers in. And then I am the poky little puppy, rumbling and tumbling down the hill of believing and questioning and letting my feelings be dictators about who my God is. In all things, good. Through all things, good.
Feelings aren't truth tellers. They don't decide. I feel alone? I'm not because He IS. I feel forgotten? I'm not because He IS. I feel like I can't endure? I can because He IS.
Promises always trump feelings. If I can just keep rubbing that salve into my achy heart.
God allows pain. He allows hunger. He allows loss. And maybe? Maybe if I squint hard enough in the raw places, I can see most aptly there that He doesn't change. And that He will not be defined by how I feel.
And so, today? Today I take that feeling and instead of shaking my fist at Him I stop playing tough guy. I admit to Him. And I surrender to Him. I ask, help me overcome my unbelief? And instead of getting dusty, dirty, tousled and torn on my own little hill I decide for truth. And He keeps my foot steady.