Steam Rising (Musings on Insomnia)

Steam rising at dusk's embrace.

The moon looks down on the silent world. Keeping watch over the hidden workings of night owls and specters. The coming and going of those ignored by the light of day. Forgotten by the watching world, unheard in their whispers with the moon.

I enter this sacred space and revel in the peace that can only be attained in the embrace of the evening. When the anxiety of life seeps into the moment between and my thoughts fire over and over, I long for rescue and restoration.

Steam rising in the middle of the night.

Fitful sleep flees from my grasp. Dreams and nightmares war again, no victims but my sanity. As the night lingers on I wander the halls like a shade of the mists. Searching, seeking for something that simply fades away.

The object of my longing as ethereal as the thoughts conflicting above. A clear path eludes me as I drift between reality and midnight musings. I cannot begin to grasp where mind and body end. Reliving the highs and lows of the sun drenched day.

Steam rising in the middle of the night.

The nights embrace weakens around me and the resignation of a sleepless night sets in. The ethereal becomes tangible and the lies of the night are shown the harsh truth of the dawn. I greet the morning with weariness, felt bone deep.

Battle worn I watch the last vestige of night burn away. Forgotten are the desires and the pursuits of moonlit visions. The concrete concerns of waking light return a clarity of mind found only in worry. Another day collecting fatigue before the all consuming embrace night.

Steam rising to the glaring sun.

Sermon: Sowing Our Tears

Sermon Notes
Psalm 126
Ben Loos

A memory of past laughter and a promise of a tearless future.

They are remembering the past of a deliverance and joy. They are using this for strength to have hope for the current situation.

When everything seems lost and hope has failed. That moment when unexpected good happens and there is nothing you can do, but laugh. Sheer joy and hope expressed.

The promise of the past is the promise of the future on the cusp of being fulfilled. Remembering the past to reshape the present and the future.

Our hope, through our tears, is that the desert will bloom and the barren will be made fruitful. God can work in an instant.

Often, however, only after the long winter or the never-ending drought, does God work in his time. Working through the labor and struggle of the faithful hand does God bless the harvest.

If we do not sow through the despair and the melancholy we often will not sow at all. Tears do not need to be the enemy, the preventer of our labors. Rather they can be the companion that waters the seeds as we sow them. The tears bring the growth and enable the harvest.

Though tears give growth, they will be traded for eternal life and laughter.