When Mountains Collide

Sometimes, a rose stinks of loss. When the red wasn't deep enough, we tossed it by the wayside to wither along with memories and promises of love from a season past. But two fighting seeds found a soft place to lie on the cracks in the pavement confounding two lovers who had given up. And so began our tale of a love that grew from concrete. One that is long and windingly beautiful that I will tell you someday.

Yet some days I forget. I forget how deep the Maker's Hand had to reach to etch indelible ink into our hearts. I forget that our story is essentially His story. We are simply two trustees of the power two imperfect people wield when they surrender to Him. Still, some days I forget.

I forget that he has the kindest eyes; eyes so full of love that hands have to reach out and hold me. And I pull away right when his heart calls loudest. I forget that the only way he knows how to wear his heart is on his forehead. And even though he bares it wide and open to me, some days I simply look back at him frozen. I forget that he has traces of me in the corner of his smile - one of those deep ones my soul sinks into - and still, some days I find myself fighting for air.

This thing called trust, I am yet to master. And this is truth: every issue in your life can find its source in a brokenness between you and your heavenly Father.

David and I are both rocks, built high like mountains with strong wills and opinions. And time after time, like firestones, when pride gets the best of us, we spark. He likes big dogs; I like small dogs. He likes football, and I really don't. Simple things. Trivial things. Almost anything is cause to light. It's the reason why we walked away easily at the possibility of "us" in the past. No one likes to burn.

But we are no longer in the past. This is a new season and a divine relationship ordained of God Himself. And I feel that for the most part, the old mind was still at work in me. All would be well between us until I raised dust where quiet streams should flow. You see, though we clashed, I can truly say that most times David reacted and I played arson. And the genesis was always at that place of trust.

Doubt. It creeps in and I find myself asking him to promise to do the very thing he said he would over and over and it drums his mind incessantly like a wood pecker. The very loudness being this: that I don't trust his words or his promises. And the gaping wound behind every lingering question I pose at him finds its source in that I still struggle to trust God from time to time (recap here)

And David gets to suffer the most from this because a man asks nothing much from his lady - only respect and trust, and the latter is my greatest failing. So we spark, and the collision dizzies me. Then I fall silent for a few hours collecting pieces of myself like a spilled drink.

The voices grow louder.

"You're not really good at this."

"He should just leave you unless you walk away first."

It stings me a while, so I ask God to quiet me with His love and still my heart. And I give thanks that David is one to stay in a burning room with me until the Spirit wind blows over us to cooling. Though I'm not good at this, I get better each day. God is teaching me how to be in a relationship and I'm paying attention.

And every time I feel like I'm not good enough or that my best always falls short of the mark, there's a sweeping grace that washes over me like raging waters. It reminds me that it's enough to rest in the palm of His Hands - that He multiplies in my situations of failure and fills me. And when I forget to breathe, grace - that wonderful spiritual oxygen - rushes in, presses into my face and resuscitates me when I think I can and forget that I should depend on Him. Yes. Even to truly love the man He has chosen for me. It is this understanding of grace that will lead me to trust - wholly, staggeringly, with ageless ease and abandon.

Because when mountains collide, lovers like us get burnt in the throes of anger and pride. But every fire is a lesson learnt.

God has called David and I to unity in Christ. To oneness. To Christ alone being the resident flame in our souls. That all may see us as one, ablaze for Him like the burning bush - burning, but not consumed.