in God’s eyes may be different from what I expect. Today, on my way to work after a full and fabulous weekend, I meditated on Psalm 23:3. I didn’t make it past the first few words:
He restores my soul…
It stuck; this truth was just what I needed. “Lord, restore my soul,” I prayed again and again, knowing that I need every bit of restoration God provides. When I got home, I looked into it a little more and discovered that restoration isn’t always pretty.
But since when has restoration been pretty? When my dad refinished our piano, a 1918 piano that lived in garages (the worst place possible for a piano before the great outdoors) and covered in black, then green paint, it was…a process. The sanding took a while, the chemicals filled the garage with fumes, and it was a cold winter project. And now, the beautiful wood that was underneath all the time is visible and enjoyed often. (The insides were still decent too, which is why my dad invested in the project initially.)
The word that is translated restore is also translated as “turn back, retreat, come back, carry again, bring home, refresh, relieve, repent, rescue, retrieve.” Is it possible that in restoring our souls, God brings us home, back to where we are supposed to be? I don’t like to think of needing to be carried again; I want to be able to do it myself. When I whine, though, it sounds an awful lot like the small child who cries, “I do it my big self!”
Clearly, God’s faithfulness is too great to leave His children in physical, spiritual, emotional, and mental places without restoration forever. When and how that restoration comes is His deal, not mine. In the meantime, if restoration looks like being rescued from myself, let it be. Dear Lord, let it be.