Screensaver

There's a screensaver that Cal has on his desktop. He put it there the week I was away, the week we both learned lessons in how much we needed each other, how much we needed to appreciate each other, the week he went out and extravagantly bought bunches of beautiful new linens for our bed and actually cleared off his desk. (The room is still neat and lovely, in the third week out). The screensaver is a series of beautiful photographs taken of us smiling and mugging and smooching one beautiful Sunday morning outside of St. Andrews PCA at least ten years ago. There's hardly any gray in my upsweep and my neck is long and graceful. In fact, in my opinion, in these photos I am beautiful and Cal more handsome than I remember him. Cal put the screensaver up in his successful efforts to bless me with the beauty of his love.

Just now, though, in the midst of present pain, it serves to remind me of all the pain of the past twelve years. And it occurs to me, along with my aching aging body, that things aren't going to get any better this side of heaven. I shall keep struggling, if I have the strength or will, to overcome my besetting sin, but with Paul, I shall find my flesh always with me. And shall my will weaken in the midst of pain and exhaustion?

I was reminded yesterday of the change of perspective in the prophet Habakkuk. I need to get me some of that. And thank God that even while I have opportunity to bless His eternal and glorious Being, He is giving me birds to hear and sunlit Florida clouds to see, in spite of my upsweep, thinner and gray, and setting off a sagging and overweight neck, in spite of how much I see and hate the ugliness that is Florida, that is our culture, that is our sin. I expect the problems and pains of life to get harder. I expect, along with objective sanctification, an increasing subjective dismay with my sinful flesh. (That should serve to exalt the gospel!) "I will wait patiently for the day of calamity....Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no kids left at home and no grandchildren within arms reach, yet I will rejoice in JHWH, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; He makes my feet like the feet of the deer, he enables me to tread on the heights. (Habakkuk 3:16-19).