Tag: rock

God is Not Overwhelmed

God is Not Overwhelmed

God is not overwhelmed.

With the myopia natural to humanity, it can be easy to view the present time as the worst time. Or, depending on your temperament and inclinations, to view the present moment as the very best in history. It is very likely that neither is true and that the present age lies somewhere between those two extremes. The perfect vantage point comes, naturally, from God, who sees what would both heartily encourage us and completely devast us.

God sees and knows all. The innumerable pains which are suffered silently within the hearts of humanity are known utterly by God. Yet He also knows the selfless acts of charity, the hidden conquering of vices, and the small but real ways people chose to love Him and each other. He sees the best and the worst of humanity, the pouring out of the hearts’ treasures and the outpouring of blood, the heroic and the demonic, the veiled humility and the brash pride of the world. I would not want to be Him, even with the ability to see how all of this works for the greatest good of each individual and the world.

And yet, God is not overwhelmed. He is not struck down by the flaws and horrors of humanity. What we did not see coming, He knew before the foundations of the world. What causes us to be overly elated, He takes with a peace which surpasses understanding. There is no plot twist, surprise, or cliffhanger for God. He knows everything and everyone completely.

It is not that He is passive or stoic or even distantly removed from our human drama. No, He is intimately involved with the very flutters of our heart, the little moments which cause a burst of joy or a piercing sorrow. He is not indifferent or unable to be moved by our plight. Rather, He is unable to be overwhelmed. The world He embraced and entered into, He has also conquered. It is sustained by His constant will and we exist through a persistent overflow of love which does not question if we are worthy. The Lord is very near and yet, thankfully, He does not get swept away in a million soundbites or the raging of violence or the bitter divisions which wend their way through the human race. He is a firm foundation, a rock, a fortress, a refuge.

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He understood it well

He understood it well

But Jesus would not trust himself to them because he knew them all, and did not need anyone to testify about human nature. He himself understood it well.

John 2:24

I keep thinking of those rocks that are rough, with edges that snag on anything softer which passes by it. Any sort of fabric which flutters nearby is caught in the crevices of the rock, pulling and tearing with an immovable stoicism. Like when you sit on a wooden bench and the sneaky slivers of wood grasp the fabric of your skirt or shirt when you stand up, leaving you with clothing pierced through and a snarled bunch of threads.

This type of rock keeps coming to mind, I think, because it seems to be a fitting comparison for my heart and, hopefully not, but perhaps also, yours, too. It seems too easy for my hard little heart to find itself getting snagged on the people and things which pass by. And I’d really like to blame it on the others instead of looking at the roughness which resides within. I want to say, Maybe you shouldn’t have done this thing or You got too close to this hard edge or Why did you mercilessly punch your finger into this wound? If death and taxes are two absolutes, experience dictates that another absolute is our hearts running our own rough edges into the craggy contours of others’ hearts.

When matters appear to be going swimmingly, I find myself discovering another flaw or brokenness or wound through the oblivious words and actions of others. Even in situations where the other person is entirely to blame (which, admittedly, is quite rare), I still must reconcile with what that particular interaction has revealed. The fault may be theirs, but the roughness it has revealed is still certainly mine.

This season of Lent provides the perfect opportunity to look more realistically at these tangled threads, these areas where I find myself torn by the simple experience of living in a community of fallen humans. It creates the opening for mercy and grace, the chance to see how the Lord is inviting me to let my rough edges be smoothed by the crucible of life. I almost never run towards these chances the Lord offers. Instead, I find myself resisting with the vigor of one fighting for her life. I don’t want this roughness to be dragged along the pavement, aching until it succumbs to smooth surrender. I’m more prone to dig in, to harden my heart, to prickle at the first hint of pressure, to worm my way safely into caverns which cannot easily be reached.

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