Monday, October 18, 2010

You can understand dependence when you know the Maker's hand.

I hung out with some friends tonight over wine, a killer vegetable soup and some rambling, mostly aimless conversation.

It was really good.

Driving home, Mumford & Sons playing for the millionth time in the cd player, I started thinking about God, and about how thankful I am that He is not dependent on me. His attitude toward me doesn't change when my attitude toward Him does. The fact that my faith is weak and frail doesn't diminish His strength. The fact that sometimes, lots of times, I don't believe in Him doesn't keep Him from believing in me and seeing me as a completed creation, rather than the partway-there, unfinished heap of stuff I tend to feel like.

He loves me, even when I don't love Him or others well, or at all.

He listens to what I don't say, can't say, won't.

And when I focus, and focus, and focus on myself and my imperfections and the imperfections of the world that make my life harder, he hangs around, and lets me fume, lets me cry, lets me throw my tantrums.

This isn't weakness, or laziness, or lack of concern.

It's grace.

For me, God has always been present and active. And so sometimes, I think I look for Him in the thunder, or the tragedy, or the big, loud, noisy moments. And He's always there, but it's not always where He chooses to show up.

I am thankful that God can stay strong and loving and powerful and active, and he can do all those things in the dark corners of my life. He can stay there until He wants to move, and He can work silently where He chooses, as slowly or as quickly as He likes.

I have no patience. He knows this. I want evidence of change, movement. He knows this too.

I am thankful that God is present when I can't be. However quiet, however slow.

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