A good cup of coffee, a rainy afternoon, my son playing in the floor beside me, my wife asleep on the couch... man, it doesn't get much better than this! It's so peaceful. I know it's been a while since I posted, and God is continuing to work in my life every single day; showing me more and more what his love looks like, and how it applies to my wife. Just a few weeks ago, I was talking with a friend, and analogy about the life I've tried to live came to mind.
I became a Christian at the age of 6. Now, I'm 26 years old, and I've been a Christian for 20 years. I'm still at that age that it's weird for me to be able to say stuff like “20 years ago...” Yeah, I was a kid, but I can still say that... weird. Anyway, I've been a Christian for 20 years, and I've been fighting and clawing for God's love ever since. I've tried everything to clamor above the noise to make sure God noticed how good I am and how much he should love me. Then, a few weeks ago, it happened: God's love broke through. I found some old notebooks that had writings from when I was in high school and early on in college. Every page seemed to be filled with my crying out to God to show me himself. I saw paragraphs like, “I see you working in everybody else's life, why not mine? I feel like you aren't listening to me, or that I'm missing everything. Show me you, God. Show me your love. Teach me how to love you!” In those days, I was more worried with whether God was offended if I didn't capitalize “You” than with the fact that he already loved me.
Anyway, I promised an analogy, didn't I? My son, Liam (don't you just love that name?) is 6 months old. He's eating baby food now, but he still takes a bottle now and then. He's trying to be an independent guy, but doesn't quite have his motor skills down. Sure, he can roll over both ways (and does quite often) and he's trying to figure out the whole crawling thing. But he's really into grabbing and holding stuff. If you pick him up, he likes to touch your face, grab your nose, and poke you in the eye. My dad has a goatee that is about 3 inches long (though it's been more at times, much to the chagrin of my mom) and Liam loves trying to get a hold of that thing. The problem comes when I'm trying to feed him a bottle.
Since he loves to grab onto things, and now he's able to recognize the bottle, knowing exactly what it is from across the room, he's overanxious to get the formula in his mouth. He knows that he's hungry and that what's in that bottle is going to satisfy his hunger. What he fails to recognize is that, because he's unable to take care of himself, I'm the one who's able to satisfy the craving and the need he has. All he has to do is sit back, relax, and drink. Instead, he's crying, he's fighting against me and he's trying to grab the bottle himself. Now, if he had a little bit more control over his motor skills, I'd let him help me, but right now, his “help” is a hindrance. Instead of his reaching for the bottle helping me guide it to his mouth, he's pushing it away and getting more and more frustrated because his hunger isn't being abated. He may get upset with me and cry and in his tiny little mind blame me for his misfortune, but in reality, I'm the only constant in this situation. What I end up having to do is allow him to hold on to my hand, while I feed him. I have to remain constant while he thrashes around until he comes to what I'm offering him.
I know I don't have to spell it all out for you, and I won't insult your intelligence, but God's patience is immensely greater than mine. He offers himself as our anchor to hold onto, and he forever remains constant. God never changes, (unlike humanity) so his love is always the same. When we discover a new facet of his love, he didn't change, we just discovered more of his personality. If i'll stop fighting to help God, he will be able to do so much more in me. Wow. I can relax, rest assured, and enjoy him. See? I told you it's a peaceful afternoon...
