I don’t like temporary, but I live in temporary.
I shelve books that I know will have to be unshelved again, one day; tacking things to walls with timid hammer-strokes, knowing that I’ll have to pull the nails out again.
In C. S. Lewis’ Perelandra, his Adam- and Eve-like characters are given only one command: they may not sleep on the fixed land, but only the floating islands which make most of the land of their planet.
That particular temptation has always resonated with me. I want to live on the fixed land, to call it home, to know that I’ll be waking up there forever, not floating hither and yon, at the mercy of time and tide.
But this isn’t forever. This is not-yet-redeemed creation, groaning in futility, and we’re still on our way home.
And it’s His mercy, really, that keeps me off the fixed land, reminding me that I don’t have a lasting city here; reminding me to seek the city that is to come (Hebrews 13:14). Time and tide and temporariness are at the mercy of our merciful Father, who knows our dust-made frames (Psalm 103:14).
Small and sad because of temporary things, I cling to Him who does not change. And He is good, and in His goodness, I am glad.
©2015 by Stacy Nott