I’ve resigned myself to the fact that the lessons babies learn in Sunday school are just coming to me in middle age. I’m 45 years old and may have opened the book on learning to receive God’s love in the way that He expresses it.
This weekend, we got together again with friends from our church in the other city. 3 families. 6 adults. 16 kids. I dreaded it , because I knew it wouldn’t be enough time. Ray, whose house we were at, voiced similar thoughts about getting together making him remember. It was a phenomenal time and place. The relationships are proof that God is at work and it all really happened.
We went to the church. Participated in worship in three languages. And in the quiet of the celebration, I realized it is so prideful of me to worry about being understood. I am so busy wishing for more than what God has given, that I don’t experience the fullness of what He has given. And that, my friends, is sin.
If I worry about what is not happening or the scarcity of time or the fear of this being the last time we’ll see each other. Or what you’ll think of our house or kids or the chins I’ve acquired since we last met. I miss out on the growing more “What-Makes-This-Great” memories. The thrill that your kids have grown up so beautiful and wishing you ‘Happy 21st Anniversary’ and how precious and nourishing this time is for my daughters. And discovering that, when I was attending your son’s birth, my son had, just 4 days earlier, come to the orphanage in China. The thrill of simply standing in line at Wal-Mart together. The necessary goodness of sharing late into the night.
Living in the past and the future misses today. Wanting more than is given leaves me continually hungry without being filled, and continually consuming without ever feasting. It is a subtle rejection of the manifold richness of abundance of God’s deliberate personal outpouring of love to us.
I don’t merit anything in the Kingdom. It is all favor. While I wish for more time and more money and a BLT that will make me lose pounds and inches, I rebelliously overlook the FACT that He has privileged us more than most.
It has taken me longer than the average grade school child. But now, I know.
Thanks. Again. Good Friends.