It’s been quiet because I’ve been thinking. I create distance to silence the buzz. I stepped out of the argument and watched the tide gravitate to what is safe. Homeostasis of the “ye of little faith”.
I watch people and I listen to them. So sure of something they should never be finished discovering.
The man, trying too hard for too long to be cool, sits in the coffee shop and talks like he has all the answers while the kid can’t edge a word, a question, in. And I know he’s a Christian not because he’s drinking in the honesty of someone else’s life, but because he brought a stack of books and talks incessantly. Like a salesman selling timeshares of eternity in paradise. All he needs is a signature.
I read a lot. Mostly I read things that have nothing to do with the argument, but if it’s true it’s God and the call keeps speaking. I clean up my feed so that I don’t get dulled by the short-sighted. I accept an invitation to read someone else and wonder how they can use so many letters to say so little. It’s all back peddling and hampster wheel racing. The clanging cymbals of the loveless busybodies drown out the real music of the little guys asking the big questions.
When was the last time your journey of faith wasn’t about you? Do you know what it’s like to be dwarfed by just a glimmer of Him? When was the last time you were in awe?
So much effort is put into keeping their lives between the lines because nothing can hurt you if you follow the rules. Blinker’s on, tread’s thick, oil’s fresh, and the needle stays where it should. They’re convinced that nothing bad happens to those who follow the rules. Until something bad happens.
What if they knew that they could do everything right or everything wrong and end up in the same place? The squire says “All is vanity.” He writes that all the streams run to the sea, yet the sea is not full. The ears never fill with hearing and the eyes never tire of seeing (Ecc 1:7-8).
People fall prey to groupthink and still feel original. They credit God for math that doesn’t reconcile, but blame themselves for messing up the formula. They say that you have to get it right to be right, but when all of your rightness can’t produce the dream, then God’s got other plans. It’s like He’s omnipotent when you’re good and impotent when you’re bad.
God is God no matter who you decide is you. You’re a fickle heart, choosing this battle over that battle, justifying what is yours and condemning the match to your set when it’s another’s.
People are boycotting words like a skinny girl boycotts chocolate cake. Kids are standing in corners for saying the wrong thing while extended family walks through the illogical landmines of an uptight and worn out Christian trying in all the wrong ways to distance herself from the rest of the godless world. It’s as though God cannot come where too much skin shows, or too much wine is consumed, or too much chaos ensues.
It’s as though God cannot hold that which has no order to order.
We live in a galaxy that is so inhospitable for life it’s a wonder anyone has a life to sweat over. Step away from the mirror for just a second and consider our place in space. We live in a galaxy that is being pulled at by two other galaxies wanting to swallow us up. The Small Maggelanic Clouds and the Large Maggelanic Clouds are pulling on the hydrogen gas in our atmosphere so severely that it’s warping the outer edge and playing it like a three piece acoustic band. We’re the rope in a gallactic tug-o-war (Cain, 2006). It’s like God is using the chaos to make music. If Middle C was the Y-axis on a chart, the three notes are 3 million octaves below it. The literal notes our vibrating gallaxy sings can’t even be charted.
We have a black hole in the middle of our gallaxy that, at it’s smallest, is the size of 40,000 suns (Finley, 2004). Black holes are gluttons and anything close to it becomes a gallactic gas burb. Yet, right on the lip of this massive monster, a collony of new stars is born as though survival was not unlikely (Deutsch, Hupp, Roy, & Watzke, 2005). Black holes destroy stars, they don’t help create them. But, ours did.
Our lives are layered with ordered chaos and thrive in inhospitable conditions. What should rip us to pieces and rename us is actually creating music that only He can hear. What should swallow us whole and crush us with the weight of a mass most of us can’t even calculate, is actually creating new life. We’re dwarfed by our lack of control and asked to trust the One who can snuff us out with a word.
He made it to where our sin cannot destroy us. If he can hold the universe together with a decision, then His word about you can’t be trumped with your own chaotic black hole. Knowing Him, He’ll probably use it to create new life in you.
He gets the last word. He creates order out of disorder.
“Why do you confuse the issue? Why do you talk without knowing what you’re talking about? Pull yourself together, Job! Up on your feet! Stand tall! I have some questions for you, and I want some straight answers. Where were you when I created the earth? Tell me, since you know so much! Who decided on its size? Certainly you’ll know that! Who came up with the blueprints and measurements? How was its foundation poured, and who set the cornerstone, While the morning stars sang in chorus and all the angels shouted praise? And who took charge of the ocean when it gushed forth like a baby from the womb? That was me! I wrapped it in soft clouds, and tucked it in safely at night. Then I made a playpen for it, a strong playpen so it couldn’t run loose, And said, ‘Stay here, this is your place. Your wild tantrums are confined to this place.” – Job 38:2-11 MSG