Reflecting on Miscellaneous Scripture thoughts, 2/17/2015
I wonder what these guys were like in person.
Do you think prophets had weirdly eccentric ticks? Strange laughs? Do you think they were picky about how they got dressed in the morning? Do you ever wonder if they were crankier than most?
People talk about dreams here on earth, but some dreams cross over into Heaven
One of the happiest cross-over dreams I know is the hope that someday, when I meet God, he’ll already have all the answers to all the questions I’ve ever asked, written out in perfect understanding,
And I’ll look up, and know, but beyond “know”, there will be peace.
I wonder if when Jesus just allowed the Pharisees to kill him, because it was necessary,
Did his words have such bitter solemnity that the mere speaking them alone gave enough conviction to turn hypocrites to rage? Did the fact that he already knew make them most angry, or was it the fact that they had to fabricate any charge they could possibly think of, and even then, it came down to screaming for his blood,
Stripping him down, beating him, and belittling him onto the cross.
These men were human, but only one was also God,
We don’t talk about Isaiah or Jeremiah all that much,
We don’t call them “Prophets”, except in terms of what they wrote,
I want to know how they lived,
There must have been truth in that as well.
This is going to be terrible:
But do you ever wonder if Mary ever regretted bringing Christ into the world, in those moments she watched him die? She would have known it was necessary. But surely Christ didn’t have an easy life. To know like he did, and never find any rest for it. As his mother, she would not even be fully aware of how he felt, because she couldn’t be. His feeling was probably too profound for anyone to understand, as part of God, at least, not all the way. So many people complain about feeling lonely, but truly, only Christ was ever fully alone and fully one with God.
Loneliness. I still like that Jesus wept, even if it’s an old favorite part of the Bible. It isn’t twisted to cry. It is part of us.
These past few days, when I’ve gotten a little scared, and begun to listen to that little voice that says, “Turn back!”
That God dragged me into good things while I was still kicking and screaming,
God achieved masterworks in and over my life, when I was still more than clueless,
God grows me years in a month, and reconciles all my insecurities with the comparatively infinite truth,
God can handle whatever kind of questions I have for him,
God already forgave through Christ,
God loved before love had ever become articulated by humans,
And will, for however long it takes; however long he wants.
God is all things, in all things, through us, over, and underneath,
I can’t escape him, and so I’d better not try,
I can rest in knowing the goal isn’t to have my life figured out,
But to be open to receive from the vine;
That God does all things for his perfect plan, and not my whinnying doubt,
That God provides the opportunities and seasons that I crave for service,
That he calls us to steward all good things,
That he walks with instead of walking for, but he helps us keep pace,
That his compassion is not like mine, but is greater,
And that he loves us.
I like to think about how crazy it must have been for the Pharisees to wake up the next day and live the rest of their lives a lie,
Those who didn’t convert on the spot.
I wonder if we miss the point when we focus on specific sins, instead of the grace that pervades all of it.
Why is it more important to ask me what my stance on abortion is than to observe whether I live and act with kindness? I don’t understand this. I believe in dignity for all of creation. What can be said when “personhood” dies, and we forget what it means to care for one another? We each have opinions, but we cannot heal alone.
Doesn’t anyone else ever feel like we’re contorting ourselves into a cosmic game of Twister, to bicker so steadfastly over differences no one can fully understand or rightly judge? There must be a better way.
The more you learn about the truth, the more infinitely true it becomes,
And while I worry about whether or not forgetting is wrong,
The truth lasts on, outstripping my doubt.
It is strange to be in a place where the world could crumble apart and my God would still have me standing,
It is strange to resist making that smaller, because to speak of it at all is to know that I can’t;
Not me. God doesn’t shrink, only words do.
Nothing can be complete without God,
Which fascinates me, as I make wrong decisions,
“Shouldn’t I know better than this?”
It’s as simple as a cranky reaction for a two second resolution,
I should know better than this,
Knowing is the gift, if you cling to it,
And the better that has been known to me was first given and sacrificed,
Simply different than what we call good.
The middle is where I want to be, the middle is where I want to dwell,
Service a part of me, God guiding me, the love inside of me,
I just want to be with him.