"Try to take on the weight of everyday freigtht
You'll find you're too weak to stand."
--Mark Heard, Rise from the Ruins
I can say with gratitude from the safety of my desk that I've longed to play a pivotal role in a historic battle. I would have loved to have walked next to MacArthur on the beaches of Lyete rather than walked back to my classroom, or manned a cannon on the HMS Victory rather than sit at my desk, or gone on a run at the Death Star rather than driven to another meeting.
But I've learned in living and reading history that greatness is not found in watershed moments, but in the everyday humdrum. I've found myself taking jobs no one wants, working with people who have been rejected by everyone; their own families in many cases. While on the surface it may be that I toil in obscure places and that my best work goes unseen, with little if anything to show for it, nothing can be further from the truth.
Francis Schaeffer once wrote that with God there are no little places, there are no little people. Teaching special needs homebound students in a four car classroom is every bit as significant as lecturing at Harvard. Playing baby to a roomful of special needs teenagers is every bit as important as playing Mozart in Carnegie Hall. I've learned there's greatness in the small places because that's where God has me. Much of what I've taught, I've needed to be reminded of myself.
I remember reading this beautiful story about an artist who's doing portraits at Disneyland when a boy sits down to have his portrait painted who is missing an eye. The artist is faced with the decision to either paint the child as he appears to him or to paint him another way. The artist decided to draw the boy with two perfect eyes; for his parents saw him not for his flaws, but through the eyes of love.
I was reminded by this episode that God sees us as we are, not for what we have. I tend to see myself for what I don't have, or I'll look back and see my grand trilogy of failures, or my mid-twenties crisis and feel insignificant and insecure. I have been imputed with significance by the very Creator of everything, and am held secure by the eternal King. We are His children, loved and created by Him. I've learned that burned bridges mean nothing to one who walks on water. God has all ready mended the widest rift that laid between us, and He can certainly carry us across the gaps we've made between us and those we've wronged in the past. I've learned scorched, salted earth means nothing to the great farmer who can bring any seed to purchase regardless of the soil conditions.
I had three careers collapse on me in a 2.5 year span. All of which fell apart in violent, traumatic ways, that I would not want anyone to experience. Yet I've found myself re-established in each, where if I had my way at the time I would've washed my hands of each. But each comeback has been better than the original in ways I could not have ever conceived. Each comeback has come by no effort of my own, nor have they come in sudden blinding flashes from heaven, but in quietly committing to the heroic humdrum, working through the every day epic, and being shown the splendour of the ordinary.
There are no little moments either. Each second has been crafted and set in motion, and is entirely unique. I did not have to hold Lahaye Saint against L'Enfente Terribles, when I'm held by the hand who crafted time. I did not have to March to the Sea when God invites me to walk beside Him every day.
I've learned there is glory in the ruins, and someday we will rise from them. Just like spring's verdancy blossoms after the barren blankness of winter, while we still have breath, we can still comeback.
"And the salmon's swimming again the stream
And the coyote's running in these hills
And the trees are returning to the mountainside,
If they could comeback, maybe there's hope for this man."
Brooks Williams, Seven Sisters.
