.Jesus—the Son of God, yet fully human—vulnerable, weary, uncertain, and yes just a bit arrogant, shows the disciples—and all of us—that the deep source of true healing is found in the willingness to be changed.
“Whether it’s white supremacists marching with torches in Charlottesville or world leaders playing chicken with nuclear weaponry, you can almost understand their logic: ‘If we could just get rid of the people in our way, we could breathe easier. We could move on with life. We could find some measure of peace.’ But here’s the problem: Peace by subtraction, peace by disposal, peace by elimination, is never the peace of God.”
Jesus became the burning bush:
burning but not consumed;
blazing with the light of the great I Am;
the faceless Father shining
through the face of our Lord and friend.
Life is crammed full of disappointments and failures—large and small—and as much as we try to convince ourselves otherwise, you can’t always get what you want.
If we want to know God,
then we must know God
And if we want to know ourselves,
then we must know ourselves
as givers, too.
When we are willing to get over ourselves and to give up trying to arrange our lives around our own desires, when we are willing to release our need to be seen as wise and intelligent and in charge, and to accept the wisdom offered to infants, Jesus is there—offering the yoke made by his own hands that will bind us to him, leading us to follow the voice of the Father who graciously wills a life of abundance created for us before the beginning of time.
God is always the most interesting part of the story,
and that much is certainly true today.
But let’s not ever make the mistake
of confusing “interesting”
for “simple,” or “predictable,” or “tame.”
Yes, our God is different from all other gods.
He is compassionate, not capricious.
He is merciful, not mercurial.
He is relenting, not ruthless.
But even still . . .
he is God.
“We belong to God,
but God does not belong to us.”
You know what?
Jesus is right:
at the end of the day,
his love is better
than any other family,
any other relationship,
any other political leanings,
any other identity,
any other club,
any other tribe
that I will ever be a part of.
His love cuts like a sword through it all,
and without reservation or condition,
declares to my hurting, selfish heart:
“YOU . . . ARE . . . MINE.”
Sometimes getting to yes is as simple as letting go of no, and finding that each and every yes—however long it takes to get there—opens us to a life of abundance and blessing beyond anything we could have asked or imagined.