Start Here
The weekends are becoming anti-climactic for me. My holy days are more Monday through Friday. The time I spend with God at the beach in the mornings is a time of growth and joy. It's also a time of turmoil. But a turmoil I crave. I see a lot of things in myself that need to change. But I also see a hand at work on the changing.
I admit I haven't thought much about God this weekend. I've thought more about unpacking, buying shelves at Ikea, hanging out with friends, paying bills, money, getting my mail forwarded to the new apartment and doing change of addresses on all my accounts. I've spent more time running from store to store, for this little thing or that for the new apartment. Trying to get "settled in" so I can get back to whatever it is I keep telling myself is most important.
But here I am on a Sunday night, drained. Feeling like I've cheated God out of His due devotion. I have once again ignored the most important person in my life. I didn't even go to church. I have a lame excuse for not going. But why trot that out? I almost feel like this blog post is a half-assed attempt to make up for it...and it is. But it's also just a good old fashioned confession. I can not for the life of me be truly holy. Not on my own. I have such wonderful times with God during the week that I always try to coast on that heavenly high through the weekend. Stupid.
Honestly! When will I learn? I feel like a jerk. But what kills me is that tomorrow morning He will be there waiting with open arms. Showering me with so much mercy and kisses of welcome that I will likely crumple into a weeping heap in the sand. What's more, He's here now, hardly able to contain Himself until morning. It is only my self-flagellation that delays His celebration. God is ever ready to begin again.
"In the beginning God..." Christian writers are ever so fond of those four words. And it is undeniable, the power they hold over us. God. That is the beginning. God. And it starts. God. And BANG! "Let's get to it!" Whether it is the very beginning of everything or the new beginnings I seem to need with an almost insatiable consistency... GOD. Here He is now. Standing. Waiting. "Are you ready?" For He is not pushy. He has begun but He pauses with breathless anticipation. "Come on then. Let's get to it!" And off we will go.
But maybe Lord, I can just sit here and sulk on my neglect of You a little while longer. Shouldn't I punish myself for the rest of the night? I need to make sure I remember what a jerk I was all weekend so I don't forget you again. Or maybe...
To sulk is to neglect further. To punish is to be ungrateful. To remember You instead of myself, is the best way to not forget you.
Believe. It is already morning then. We are already at the beach. You are rolling the waves at me. You are orchestrating seagulls. You are whispering love. You are teaching me your ways. The weekend is forgotten. The day opens up like a flower in Your hand and I, Your little hummingbird, flutter about seeking all the sweetness You offer.
"Hello, my Love. Did you miss me as much as I missed you?"
I admit I haven't thought much about God this weekend. I've thought more about unpacking, buying shelves at Ikea, hanging out with friends, paying bills, money, getting my mail forwarded to the new apartment and doing change of addresses on all my accounts. I've spent more time running from store to store, for this little thing or that for the new apartment. Trying to get "settled in" so I can get back to whatever it is I keep telling myself is most important.
But here I am on a Sunday night, drained. Feeling like I've cheated God out of His due devotion. I have once again ignored the most important person in my life. I didn't even go to church. I have a lame excuse for not going. But why trot that out? I almost feel like this blog post is a half-assed attempt to make up for it...and it is. But it's also just a good old fashioned confession. I can not for the life of me be truly holy. Not on my own. I have such wonderful times with God during the week that I always try to coast on that heavenly high through the weekend. Stupid.
Honestly! When will I learn? I feel like a jerk. But what kills me is that tomorrow morning He will be there waiting with open arms. Showering me with so much mercy and kisses of welcome that I will likely crumple into a weeping heap in the sand. What's more, He's here now, hardly able to contain Himself until morning. It is only my self-flagellation that delays His celebration. God is ever ready to begin again.
"In the beginning God..." Christian writers are ever so fond of those four words. And it is undeniable, the power they hold over us. God. That is the beginning. God. And it starts. God. And BANG! "Let's get to it!" Whether it is the very beginning of everything or the new beginnings I seem to need with an almost insatiable consistency... GOD. Here He is now. Standing. Waiting. "Are you ready?" For He is not pushy. He has begun but He pauses with breathless anticipation. "Come on then. Let's get to it!" And off we will go.
But maybe Lord, I can just sit here and sulk on my neglect of You a little while longer. Shouldn't I punish myself for the rest of the night? I need to make sure I remember what a jerk I was all weekend so I don't forget you again. Or maybe...
To sulk is to neglect further. To punish is to be ungrateful. To remember You instead of myself, is the best way to not forget you.
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