It’s the end of winter, and life has just seemed “weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable.” Construction on our addition is no longer at a standstill, but progress is frustratingly slow. The GOP race has devolved to (hopefully) selecting the least-worst statist. Democrats continue to be utterly shameless, and appeasement in the middle east continues to fail. Worst of all, I’ve been in a funk spiritually – to the point that when I prayed in our small group last night, I nervously incorporated a mini-lecture for the person I was praying for. I heard the words coming out of my mouth and thought, Shut up. Shut up! And yet I continued to speak. (I managed to avoid the Father-Lord-God tic, so at least I’ve got that going for me.) The whole fiasco was prayer as performance art instead of, you know, talking to God. I hate that. It’s not what I wanted at all, but once the nervousness took over it was as unstoppable as a toilet flush.
The occasional reality check keeps me going. This woman had a mastectomy without anesthesia. She got through it calmly and prayerfully. This pastor is facing execution for his faith. My weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable life is actually really great.
And then there’s God. God, who will welcome his prodigal daughter back the minute I finally wise up and go home. God, who knows me – and loves me anyway. Soon the church will be celebrating Jesus’ resurrection. I’m praying for repentance so I can celebrate – I mean, really celebrate, with that deep-down-in-my-soul joy and gratitude that I’ve felt before – it too.
As the blessed recipient of that prayer, let me say, It wasn’t received as a lecture. It was received as an exhortation and a loving reminder.
As always, you are too kind.