Manhattan No. 2

 There is so much here. New York is a treasure trove of humanity- history is under your feet and over your head at any given second, there is life and death and joy and depravity leeching into every subway ride. artists make their mark on brick and stone with brush and spray cans, heck, even with tar on over-trod sidewalks. There is worship- in the music on street corners and the smiles of volunteers handing out food to hungry passerby-s, in the slide of the metro card and the expectancy of commuters, in the glittering eyes of tourists, heads tilted up to take in the glittering skyscrapers. 

At any given time of day I am overwhelmed, overstimulated, oversaturated by the sheer being in this city. 

God doesn't call me to any of these things. 

I must disconnect. Rededicate. Be committed to the peace of my Father amidst the disquiet of New York City. God is still here amidst everything else. Just Being. 

He is the Great I Am. He is in a constant state of being. Of remaining. 

Life feels different here. Disjointed and rushed. Temporary. That's not to say that I hate it. But there is so much to adjust to. Each day I feel I must recalibrate to soldier on through my allocated 24 hours. 

But I want to be mindful of what I'm calibrating myself to. The pace that I allow to be set. The things I allow myself to focus on. They should still be Him. They must. still. be. Him. 

I often mull over Paul's words, "For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I what I want, but I do the very thing that I hate." 

I wake in the morning desiring my Lord, hungry for communion. I pray, I read His Word, but by the end of the day I find myself exhausted by doing the things I didn't want to do. I want to refocus. I want to be glory-minded. His Glory minded. I want to focus on His Will for my life and not my own. I want to recalibrate to His pace for me-light and easily yoked. 

New York is beautiful, but dangerous. Passionately tempting, tugging at my desires, begging me to focus on the beauty and the history and the everything else that is not my Lord. I know it's not really the city though...I know it is my own depravity preying on my changing circumstances, my tipping scales, my temporary unsteady footing, trying to drag me down once and for all. I refuse to be toppled. And I must continue to refuse day in and day out. Instead of the rhythms of selfishness and busyness and constant motion, I must allow the rhythms of grace to lead my steps daily.