Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Ron the Weary Pilgrim has a great post here , reminding me at least of how limited my expectations of God often are. I find myself praying for nice nebulous things, whose arrival is hard to assess anyway - that way, nobody gets to be disappointed. I hesitate to ask too much of God, in case his failure to act brings the whole edifice of faith tumbling down.
I content myself with living in the shadowlands, where life is muted, limited....where people too easily confuse symbols for the whole mind-blowing reality..where the Lion is reduced to a domestic kitten...where people politely murmur "delicious" as I offer them stones instead of bread.
I play that game, even though I know better.
I know the way God works to transform. I've seen it happening.
I know his power to sweep me off my feet, whirl me round in a mad dance and deposit me somewhere I never expected, but which I recognise as "home".
I know this, because I've lived it.
So, why do I allow myself to be content with anything less?

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