Unfinished

I like closure.  I’ve been known to finish reading books I don’t like because I want to complete what I start.  But so many times throughout my day I look around and see things unfinished: the spackled wall, not yet painted; the picture that is bought but still needs a frame; the basket of unfolded laundry; the half-organized closet.  These seemingly little things are like exposed nerve endings reminding me that I can’t get it all together.

 I notice the same trend in my journals.  I’m writing a flowing piece on a certain topic, and then the entry just stops, sometimes mid-sentence.  What is that?  Do I get distracted and drawn away?  Perhaps.  But there are too many instances of unfinished thoughts to simply blame interruption.  I can’t ever seem to tie things up and put a bow on them.  There often is NO closure.  There are things left undone, unsaid, unresolved.  They swarm around me like pesky little gnats on a hot summer evening, robbing me of joy and peace.  Why so many loose ends, so many gaps?  Is it like that for everyone?  Are my incomplete journal entries, unfolded laundry piles and unhung pictures a reflection of something deeper in me?  If so, what?

 Maybe the acute awareness of all that is unfinished in my life is supposed to bring me to this: God is God. I am not. I am human, finite, limited.  I return again to Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God.  I will be exalted among the nations.  I will be exalted in the earth.”  God alone will work all things out in the end.  Ultimately, He will wrap them up with a bow.  But not yet.  Right now I wait.  Many things in my life are yet unfinished, and I’m learning to be ok with that.

When Jesus proclaimed from the cross, “It is finished!”, the most important thing was accomplished. His suffering and death were complete. The penalty for my sin was paid in full, so that I could be set free from all of my striving. I could live in utter dependence on His work and in awe of His grace. God is on His throne. He will be exalted. He has finished what I could not. In that my heart can rest and rejoice.