me and my fickle faith

A week full.

A week full of surprises and excitement.

And fear.

How do days like these find me? Why am I taken off guard by them? My theology is bigger than my faith allows me to hold. For, I could give you long speeches about the greatness of God and I could give you a bold declaration of the goodness of God. Yet when he comes I cannot seem to figure out what to do with him.

My confession is thus: Often I find myself wanting and desire something more than what he has given me, even when I am content with what I have. I always play mind games with what could be and what should be, asserting my own wisdom over that of the divine. For I know that when he comes, I will be ready to move; when he calls me I will be the first to go.

And then he comes, and I am not ready to move. He calls and I am hesitant.

I suppose it is easier to be certain of the things we cannot see than it is to encounter that which is more real than we can imagine. It's as if God is content to show just enough of himself to shake our foundations before retreating back from us that we might not be undone by his glory. This is why Moses had to hide behind a rock, and this is why he must use the shadows of my own caves to stand back just a bit.

It is my own inability to surrender to him that keeps me from his holiness. He knows this, and is patient enough for me to come to him as I am. But until I am ready to let go of myself can I experience him without being destroyed? Only by his grace. But for now it will be the struggle between the depth of divine love and the shallow waters of my commitment. And he will still call me to his presence . . . shaking me forward and shaking me free.