The past few days have been filled with time spent with friends. As a world-class introvert, I'm as surprised by that fact as anyone else would be, if not just a little bit more so.
Wednesday night a group of friends gathered to talk about God, and what it was like when they met Him. One wondered if he had ever really met Him, or if just seeing glimpses throughout life really was all the meeting he was going to have. Another spoke of a shift in her path, that she hadn't had a come-to-Jesus-here's-the-angels moment, but how she felt God leading her to wiser decisions. I shared that I'd had a Jesus meeting when I was 5, that conveyed a haunting beauty whenever I look back on it.
Thursday, I left a voice-mail for a friend I've not spoken to in weeks, and missed dearly. God'd been nudging me to contact her, but my ego prickled fiercely for days before I actually did it. A short voice-mail, just a "I miss you and I was a flaky idiot" not-even-5-minute note took a couple of days of intent shoulder-tapping from God. But I did it.. and she e-mailed back Friday
Friday night into Saturday morning, my friend Jose and I spent a lot of time introducing our gods to each other. (He's very new to having a relationship with the Divine, and radiates that honeymoon blush.) He talked of his conversion, of a beautiful moment where the world he knew dissolved and he met Jesus. I told him of wandering, how Jars of Clay beguiled me back into community with the beauty they saw in the God they followed, and how it made me want to be a Christ follower, rather than just look like I did.
I spent last night with a couple of different friends. We watched a stupid funny movie, played Mad Libs, played cards, had wine and vegetarian food, talked about nothing, God, and the Celts.
Then I went to church this morning, and God talked to me.
The sermon was about things we don't believe, and Andrew was eloquent and passionate. But in the middle of his talk, there seemed to be a shift, a conversion of topic, if you will. He told this story about his little boy, who's still young enough to have unsolidified joints and only this week had his first trip to the emergency room.
Andrew talked about how he had to watch his son screech in pain as the doctor rotated his arm; how incredibly hard it is to watch as a parent. He said he imagined it was like that for God, when there are things needing to be re-aligned or sacrificed in our lives, and all we can do is react to the discomfort.
Then came a comment that really struck me speechless, like hearing a secret chord. Andrew said, "God doesn't care about your comfort; He's passionately pursuing your conversion."
Now, I've wrestled with the idea that God is good because good can be relative and depends on perspective. And I've been prone to wander, like the hymn so eloquently said, from the God I love. But if what I believe and have been told is true - that is, if God is love, and love is patient and kind, not wanting something just because it wants it - then God allows what He allows because each circumstance has been tailored to my needs, and is the least painful way to teach me what I need to learn.
And if God cares more about my conversion, more about me being a reflection of His light tomorrow than I am today, than He does about my feeling comfortable and safe, then it would make sense that He would prod and hound and poke me into actions I don't want to take, but make the world a better place - and me a better person.
So here's my confession of the week: I am lazy and spoiled. I'd rather talk about God than talk to Him, and I absolutely would rather talk at Him than let Him talk and me just listen. Listening takes time and effort, and worst of all? I can't un-hear anything.
Why? Because responding - or not - is a choice. And if I am willing to spend time and effort talking to other people about God, if I am willing to choose to allow Him to be a topic, isn't He worth the time for me to actually pay attention to as well?
God speaks... and I have to convert.
I have to accept that I serve God; He does not serve me. That means that my discomfort, my loneliness, my darker pains are things to be offered, not reasons to justify poor decisions.
God leads. I follow.
I am not the center of my universe... but hopefully, I'm learning to be a better reflection.
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