right here

Spurgeon said, "Borrow the telescope of faith; wipe the misty breath of your doubts from the glass; look through it and behold the coming glory." There is a mystery I'm starting to unravel. Somehow, eyes set on the glory of what will be illuminate the glory of the now. Rather than rummaging for satisfaction in the crumpeled tissue paper and unwrapped gifts around us, hope for the future sets us free to enjoy what we have right now.

Right here.

Even if Right Here doesn't look like sparkly Christmas morning, or even sparkly at all, it doesn't have to. The pressure isn't on this place to satisfy. And in a remarkable twist that makes this—really—a mystery, when this place loses the pressure of being ultimate, we start to give credit to the little beauties that are here. We start seeing glitter in the small spaces; this place becomes a heckuvah lot more interesting.

For me, the word contentment doesn't quite carry the full meaning. More than contentment. Joyful…stillness. Exuberant rest. That's what it's like.

Believing He's got this, and that this thing is truly like a treasure hunt where we have to stalk joy with eyes wide open to wonder—this is the secret of the mystery. Excitement in the mundane; joy in the moment; life lived and filled to the edges. "The art of losing myself in bringing You praise." Losing this tight-fingered clutch on fear and resting in what He's said He will do.

"Now if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with Him." (Romans 6:8) Borrow the telescope of faith; wipe the misty breath of your doubts from the glass; look through it and behold the coming glory.