Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Seeing God Through the Eyes of Love
The entryway looks so forbidding. We have thousands of years of history that make the entrance look hideous. Wars, inter-faith rivalry, all through history. People say "God is love" and then kill anyone who doesn't agree with their narrow interpretation of that.
Isn't God big enough to take care of himself? Isn't his confidence unshakeable enough that one ranting anti-Christ can't do anything about it? Even Satan, the ruler of this world, dances to God's tune. Just read Job for proof.
And yet love is the farthest thing from our thoughts. It's on our lips but our hearts, my heart, is stone. So he has to teach me, starting at the very beginning.
Blasphemy, some would say. "God helps those who help themselves." "God doesn't have time to mess with the weak. You must be strong, fight the good fight." Well, I'm a sort of warrior, but the hills are all too high for me to take. I'm helpless. God loves me anyway, and pours his love into me all the time, and gradually, oh so slowly, my course changes.
It's not that I'm trying to do this. I can only grow. I'm too tired to try any more, although I can be courageous at times. If I'm in myself I'm too weak to wrestle a kitten. If I'm listening to God, though, I'll stand up to just about anyone and declare that God has put me in this world for a purpose, His purpose, and I will allow no one to get in my way. A Berean on steroids, perhaps. Probably too rabid about it, but this is new. God allows me to make mistakes so that I can learn.
God is pleased when the new baby finally moves a toe. Signs of life, he loves. It's his own love, watering, fertilizing, feeding, encouraging and turning into something that only I can make of it. Why he does things this way I have no idea, but he certainly doesn't want Christian machinery. No, he has a plan and he knows how to do it.
Love does transform people. Love dissolves psychic granite and joints that used to be locked solid now move again, for the first time in years.
My hard-as-flint old eyes are made new, soft, accepting. The world is still hard, but I see hints of a difference.