Lately, I’ve been great at giving advice but not taking it.
As the shimmering snowflakes continue to fall outside my bedroom window, I am in awe of their unique design, purified bodies, and senseless spirit to land wherever they please. With every inch of ice crystals, I catch a quick glimpse of a rainbow as they shift and shuffle before coming stagnant at the top of a pile. They don’t argue where to land or think about how to fall; they just do.
In all of their splendor, snowflakes have always had a way of calming my soul. Standing in the middle of the yard as they engulf and saturate my clothing, I become one of them. Lost in the bitter air and gentle flakes that glide down my nose, the numbness of my hands is warmed by their soft flames dancing over my body. As I twirl and laugh and spin, I lose sight of my present state and rest in the atmosphere of tranquility.
It’s as if the droplets of Heaven are speaking to me, “The Lord provides in showers.”
“For as the rain and the snow come down from Heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater” (Isaiah 55:10, ESV). There is something beautiful about dew that falls like manna to water our souls. Something is striking about a winter storm warning that invokes joy of spontaneity rather than rigid order and chaos.
But if the storm too consumes us, we will miss the beauty. Before we know it, the snow will be melted, and with it, our hearts that could’ve turned to bask in the attraction of one of the Creator’s many molds. In murky shades of sloppy brown and puddles of Olaf crying, we quickly shovel it all aside, waiting for next year, next month, next week to bring a gift we discard when it’s here.
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It’s a funny concept that the weather is precipitation we’ve learned to accept that we can’t control. Yet, we still wrestle and argue and thirst with 99% of aspects in this world, believing the seductive lie that once we reach “there,” from “here,” the stars, moon, and sun will obey our command.
For don’t you know, “To the snow He says, ‘Fall on the earth,’ likewise to the downpour, his mighty downpour” (Job 37:6, ESV). Don’t you comprehend, “When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, The moon and the stars, which You have ordained; What is man that You take thought of him, And the son of man that You care for him? Yet You have made him a little lower than God, And You crown him with glory and majesty” (Psalm 8:3-8, NASB)?
It’s only at the place that we surrender control entirely to the Lord in everything, the place where we feel bare, frozen, at all wit’s end, that we realize our dependence and need to not be in control of things at all. Because if we were, we wouldn’t need God. We wouldn’t pray, “Lord, show me the way,” for we’d already know it.
God’s plan for your life was never to show you the clear-cut path to follow; it was for you to rest and pursue and be in and enjoy fellowship in a personal relationship with Him. And sometimes, like the snow, He expects you to fall and just be.
Still and calm, it’s factual that snow has convicted me quite frequently of my inability to be quiet or stagnant. It has condemned the heart beating within me that I struggle to fall like the snow and go with the flow when the Lord blows me from north to west or east to south. I am overcome with remorse for the days I’ve wrestled with my anxiety to the point that I trade His truth for a lie because I get tired of fighting. My mind is numb and shallow as I look over the suggestions I’ve written or spoken to others but struggle to live out myself.
So with piles outside my house scattered across the roads and drifted onto the porch, teachers are stuck inside while kids drive their parents nuts from the third snow day in a row. But in my heart, I’m praying, “Lord, purify my heart and make me white as snow.”
I am a hypocrite, but I’m also human.
I am a sinner but praise God Almighty; I’m forgiven.
I still struggle, but I’m not giving up this fight.
For when Jesus said, “It is finished,” as blood dripped into His eyes and the nails tore the hands and feet of His calloused surfaces, He meant it.
Because of “It is finished,” Jesus died, but on Earth, I’m still coping. In this fallen state, I grapple with the spaces between the “already” and the “not yet.”
Jesus said, “It is finished,” already, He died on that cross for me.
But not yet will I taste what Heaven is like without an ounce of anxiety pressing down my soul.
I can’t wait for the day when I walk into Heaven, bow at His feet, and thank Him for saving me. I cannot imagine what it will feel like when the earthly weight of all these things dissipates.
Yes, here on Earth, Jesus gives me a foretaste of these promises to come, these days where struggles will no longer cease to exist. And praise His Holy Name for those days!
But in Heaven, I will fully embody the snow that He strives to make me daily here on Earth. I will fall in Holy utterance to His name. All my seeking to control, and know, and be will pause and be still. I will drip and melt like snow in the hands of my Creator with His intended purpose for me; to love and be known and in fellowship with my Maker.
“Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow” (Psalm 51:7, ESV).
Agape, Amber
