I didn’t post last week. In typical me fashion, I vacillated between worrying I had let people down, and worrying no one even noticed. I started several posts, but each one felt either artificially cheery or like I was vomiting on a page. Neither rang true. While tired and a little dry, I am not unhappy or without joy.
I guess it’s been kind of an Ecclesiastes summer. There is the joy of things made beautiful in their time and season, contrasted with the toil and the striving.
Is there beauty in the toiling, or is it merely vanity? If everything that is, has already been and will be again, is there a point to the doing? Is it better to keep the words inside rather than release them to the endless cycle of repetition? Should the beauty of a rose be admired from a distance because of the thorns, or is the prick of pain worth the exquisite inhalation?
Is there a purpose?
And so, I embrace these words: “Cast your bread upon the waters, for you will find it after many days. As you do not know the way the spirit comes to the bones in the womb of a woman with child, so you do not know the work of God who makes everything.” (Ecclesiastes 11: 1, 5) Perhaps it is in these words that there is rest. I cast in faith and leave the real work to God. For really, it is not about me or my work anyway.
Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labour is not in vain.
1 Corinthians 15:58