I am thinking of you.

But I have nothing to say.

Accept this as a gift,

that on a day I had nothing better to say,

I still was thinking of you.

Do we choose God, or does God choose us? Entire denominations have been formed on the varying responses to this question. I, for one, believe God chose us. Leaving all pertinent Scripture aside for now, I believe this for a very visceral reason: we delight in being chosen for almost anything. Whether it’s a pickup basketball game, an application or a relationship, we frolic about in the security that we were worthy to be chosen.

What’s even more euphoric is when we know we are the longshots, but get chosen anyway. The smallest player, youngest applicant and homeliest suitor winning out thrills us, not because of its justice but because of its injustice. We feel grace within us when we should logically feel contempt.

This is the gospel. We were chosen. Jesus wants to spend eternity with us. He picked us all first. We each have his undivided attention. The gospel is unusual economics, but it breeds euphoria. He chose us. There are bigger, better and safer models out there on the lot, but he chose us. Oh, hallelujah!

We wait so long in anticipation.

We drag our souls through the truth, knowing what our hope is and whom it comes from. We clasp our hands as we fumble, mumble, stumble our way through our best defense. We pray for the trials to end. We pray for perseverance. Either would be appreciated, neither would be scorned; just anything better than this.

And right as it feels that no more weight can be added or the lungs might just give out, something happens. Something always happens. More weight? Often. And then we fumble, mumble, stumble …

But on some days

we know not when, or why those particular days;

but on some days,

the expanse of God fills our souls.

And I can no longer keep it all in. I must go screaming, singing, hollering through the streets, my heart pressing out against my chest, threatening to escape if I don’t give it some relief from the glow that is filling it. And so other people hear of the glow, so that I can get some of it out, and it can stop from blowing me to pieces. For the greatness of God is not containable in any human soul; we have but the smallest glimpse.  I cannot explain why he chooses the times and places he chooses; perhaps it is for maximum drama. But whatever it is, his schedule is not ours.

And I treasure every moment that my heart threatens to explode. I cultivate the glee, for I know that it will most likely need to sustain me through bitter valleys ahead. And so I remember hard what it is to feel the explosive wonder of living; to feel the joy of everything rise up as the veil over my heart is torn away. I see everything in a firm sense of reality. Everything matters. The details arise. The dimly-lit corners of the room seem more majestic than forlorn. The world is transformed, if only in the way I’m seeing it. And then as the expanse recedes from my soul, the veil slips over it again, leaving a bit of complacency and a bit of gloom.

The short, passionate bursts of life as I wish it would always be are like candy. For the hard, unchanging truth of the Gospel is the food; no matter what comes, Jesus Christ died and was risen for sins. On my worst days and on my best, God is still God. But on my best days, I feel like is God is filling me, the joy of him rising in me until I must speak, must run, must be out of where I am for it is just

so

good

that I can’t sit still and take it in. It is not a tame feeling, to be measured and brought into the fold. It is wild. It is a passion. And it is unfortunately rare.

So I seek God, in the good and the bad. But I long for those days of fire, when it feels like I am expanding and my heart will beat out of its chest because of the goodness of God will overflow it.

The speed at which my brain works

is much faster than my feet move

quicker than things happen

more rapid than time passing

and that’s where the problem starts.

I am always thinking ten steps ahead

and worrying that God is against that

or that something will crush that

before it happens.

But it’s not even real; it’s merely a plan.

and I fear being called a fool

because I was not steadfast

I fear that God is against me

when I know He can’t be

because He is steadfast

and I admire that.

Time is a strange thing. It seems like yesterday that I started this blog, but I can’t even remember writing some of the very first posts. I read them now and can’t remember the circumstances that caused me to compose. The fact that I can’t remember tells me that I’m too obtuse in my references or have too short a memory span.

Oh, for the day when time doesn’t matter! Oh, for the day when we need time no more!

In the generous back alleys of my mind

there are many distractions to find

graffiti art, and shiny coins

important things, and not

and I find myself at the end of the line

not where I should really be

Am I a Christian? Always I am.

Follow Christ? Some days that’s me.

After I’ve written the things that I wrote
and said all that I have said
Please remember me from the love in my notes
and grace in every hand

Perhaps the hardest part of Christianity is the part where you have to do it every day. You don’t get days off. Even most jobs give you weekends off, but Christ isn’t just a thing we do; it becomes who we are. And you can’t take vacations from yourself — I’ve learned that I still have to deal with the consequences of my “vacation” when I “get back.”

And if we were able to just be born into loving the right thing, then Christianity would be not only the best way but the easiest way. For it would take serious effort to do evil, if we were born loving the light. And who, knowing the light fully, would seek out darkness? Jesus Christ went to the fullness of being separated from God instead of seeking self-comfort (the darkness). If he would separate from perfect communion for three days so that more could be in perfect communion with him, I must believe that perfect communion is worth an immeasurable sum. If perfect God was willing to die for that perfect communion to exist for fallen humans, that is a mighty, mighty pro- on the light side. That he would die so that we could eventually share in his glory? What a miracle! What a savior!

And so I must push back the darkness that encroaches and so easily entangles. I must remain diligent. I must seek to know the Lord my God with all my heart, soul, mind and strength, so that when the temptations come, I know how to fight them. I must learn to love the Lord my God with all the power I can, because that leads to everything else. I must learn to love the light.

And once we learn to do these things, they do become a part of us, whether we go to a fire-and-brimstone or an “everybody equally up in this house” church. And then it is much easier to do Christianity. The Lord, who gives us grace and wisdom if we ask in earnest, will provide those things that will advance his kingdom. If he does not answer immediately, he has provided you with brains (use them!). I hope that, instead of despair (as I flirted with many a time), the light of God will be an encouragement to those of you who, like me, see the summer through windows.

If there’s an angel in that place

tracking all the disbursed grace

today would see mine rather high

or same; just more I recognize

I am a very legalistic person. I like to earn things.

God doesn’t want us to earn things. God wants us to trust him.

This has a downside and a benefit.

When I am working my tail off to no discernable good end, I am not guaranteed anything.

But when I’m out there in the world, living and loving, I have lost no shot at being what I want to be.

I would be blessed with that either way.

It’s nothing I earn.

What a heavenly blessing. What a temporary disappointment.

Oh, to someday be told of the mind of God;

such a reckless and rational hope.