I've sometimes earned the criticism and concern of my fellow Christians for my perceived irreverence-- my preference for the companionship of honest heathens over that of most professing believers, my inability to settle down into one church community, my propensity for asking difficult questions.
When I inevitably respond that I learned these naughty habits from Jesus, I'm often promptly reminded of the obvious fact that I'm not Jesus, that I'm vulnerable to drift and contamination, to walking away.
The last part, in my current mood, makes me giggle. This isn't conceit-- I'm so very aware that my love for Jesus is broken, selfish, and sometimes downright bratty. It's just that the things that alarm me about my walk and the things that alarm others are so rarely even remotely similar. My spiritual 'safety' hasn't made it on my list yet.
I'm not speaking with the pride of someone who imagines herself infallible, but the gleeful desperation of one who's drifted, been contaminated, walked away, more times than I can count, only to find myself re-quipping Brother Peter's timeless question... where else would I go?
My my memory is too sharp and my imagination too small to picture life outside of this divine moment, this eternal 'now' with God. Because now, in the embrace of my Creator, I lay my head on His chest, listen to His heartbeat, and sigh, 'how You love us...'. I stand on His feet as He dances me, a dance of extravagantly messy and dangerously sincere love for all people, of celebrating Home in every space and moment and community of worship, of clear and simple steps set to a beautiful symphony of uncertainty. This is how He dances me, covering over my lack of Grace with the abundance of His.
Is it any wonder that reverence to an irreverent God would look like this?
No comments:
Post a Comment