My miniature poodle Walter has been due for a haircut for some time now. His unruly black curls are beginning to take on the appearance of a very untidy haystack, and his eyes are starting to disappear beneath the fluff.
Recently, he stayed at my parents' house while I was away for a few days. When I went to pick him up, I was horrified to find him covered head to tail in prickles, having collected what looked like every prickle on the property in his curly mop!
I rang every local pet grooming service in the book but no one could fit him in that day. There was only one thing for it—an emergency haircut. As I am less than professional in pet grooming, the result was quite hilarious, if not appalling.
Dry distraction
Now—sitting here looking across the room at his dishevelled, ragamuffin appearance, sleeping on the cool tiles—I'm feeling like his exterior is not far from an accurate representation of my interior world: unkempt, a little rough around the edges, tired and certainly not the prettiest thing to look at.
I am as dry as a desert. I've got nothing. I—through my own means of distraction—have drifted further and further away from a place of intimacy with God. He hasn't gone anywhere, but I have failed to seek him out and draw near to him. It has left me feeling empty, frustrated and worn out.
What can I give when I feel like I'm wandering restlessly in the wilderness, and my spirit feels completely dry? Do I let shame come to me and speak its familiar lies? 'You're not trying hard enough', 'You're not doing enough'...'You're not enough'.
Return to Eden
I will speak from the place I find myself, because I know God meets us where we are. The psalmist David would often pour his grief and pain onto the page, yet end giving praise to God, and putting his trust back in Him. It is so relatable, and many times reading such words has brought me immense comfort—knowing God understands me and sees me no matter how I'm feeling or where I am.
When we pour our hearts out to God He lifts us up to a higher place. He never leaves us where we are. Although circumstances don't always change, He lifts us up. He breathes life back into us. He creates streams in the desert. Wildflowers start to grow. Streams turn into rivers. And soon, we find an Eden where once there was only the cracked, dry earth.
God's unconditional love gives us freedom to live authentically and without fear of not 'measuring up'. Just like I love my ragged little poodle Walter, bad haircut and all, God loves us, with all our faults and foibles—no matter how ragged and worn we may feel or look. He wants us to stay present with Him—whether in the valley or on the mountain.
As Christians it is so important to be honest like the psalmist: raw, real and relevant. We must be able to talk from our wilderness; because as we do we allow God to reach into our lives and lift us up again. His glory is evident in our weakness.
'But you, Lord, are a shield around me, my glory, the One who lifts my head high'.
– Psalm chapter 3, verse 3.
Bonnie loves all things old-fashioned, exploring new places, coffee with friends and being with her family. She is passionate about broken hearts and relationships being restored through the power of vulnerability and honesty with God and others. Bonnie has a Bachelor of Humanitarian and Community Studies and a Master of International Public Health, and hopes to work in developing countries one day.
Bonnie Dowie's previous articles may be viewed at http://www.pressserviceinternational.org/bonnie-dowie.html
