I am a part of God’s own soul.
It is a simple thing to pound these words out flat, until they are meaningless and can be slipped between the pages of a book describing all of the banal parts of life. But this statement must live in three dimensions, fully observable from every direction. It is worth walking around again and again that it might be studied from every angle.
I start my consideration of this statement by remembering my own children and the magic that connects us. Is it a trick of the mind, a mere knowing that we are connected as child and parent? It has to be something more. There is a feeling, a willingness to do anything for the wellbeing and happiness of this other soul that is connected to me through fatherhood.
I am God’s own and He cares about my happiness in the way I care about my son’s or my daughters’. This simple thought has never before registered with me full of shape and color. Perhaps it is the recent birth of two grandsons, Ridge and Emmett, that remind me of this feeling of instant bonding and importance. It is clear to me such a connection is there. I feel it, though I cannot explain it. I almost do not want to reduce it to explanation for it is otherworldly. So it should be.
We can say we believe we are God’s children, but this generic declaration is void of meaning without this realization of intimate connection. Oh, this feeling of mattering to God, of being able to understand how He feels about me and that it is more than a doctrinal statement without an embrace and a kiss.
God loves my gentle way. His spirit reveals this to me. This gentleness seems to be authentically me, something that perhaps even He did not create, something always existent, and God loves this about me.
He is my mentor. He does not expect me to learn everything from stuffy old books, though surely scripture deserves something more than this description. My point is that, as my Father, written instruction is not enough. He wants me to have a relationship with Him and He anticipates with some excitement my learning to hear His whisperings to me.
He honors my eternal nature by literally planning for me to succeed in my dreams for helping Him, as any son wants to help his father. I am no different. I want to please Him. Really, there is nothing more for me. Pleasing God is enough. It has always been enough.
Learning to Assume God Loves Me
God loves me. This can be my starting point each day. There is an eternal fire burning and I need its warmth. I do not need to kindle it. I do not need to add wood; redirect the smoke; blow on the coals. It is always there, always ready, always warm. My progress, my happiness starts at this fireside.
God erases my assumptions, sometimes gently, with quiet wonder, often with more vigor through the divine artistry of trial and pain. He is making room in my soul for His truth, which apparently is quite large. It demands space, enough space that eventually, I will need to purge all of my own mortal placeholders.
My sins are cries for His help. They are my vain attempts to solve my own problems or they are wallowings in mud of my own making. The problem with sins is that they are magnetic. They attract with startling force the negative energy of this existence. It is God’s love that removes my polarity and lets the weighty bits of Satan’s spiteful teasingings fall into meaningless pieces.
Repentance then is remembering that God Himself is sitting by my fire waiting for me to come back and talk to Him about what’s bothering me. Repentance is remembering that I am loved always, no less because of my lack of understanding and right action, no more because of my success in remaining upright on my bike of discipleship for a block or two without Him holding on to the back of my seat.
In this Moment
What if my effort is not behind my progress? What if pushing harder has never been the force that has moved me forward? What if it has been my surrender, my relaxing under my worrisome yoke, that has brought movement? These questions, the Spirit of God has left in my mind to ponder and wonder at and ultimately to find delight in. This is wisdom.
Another question remains that trumps the others: how can searching for joy and delight make my engine burn hotter, run faster? The fuel of my heart is a sense of wonder, simple peace and enjoyment. All of the pushing is only necessary when my tank is empty. Then, all that is left is to push my bus slowly, so slowly, up life’s incline.
Success does not wait for me at the end of the journey, but rather it jumps out and surprises me when I expect it least. The status I often become fixated on: degrees, station, certifications, recognition ... these are not actually success, but placeholders, surrogates.
Success happens right here, right now. Joy soaks the moments I relax into and allows me to float weightlessly in warm water. Oh and she loves to play Hide and Seek? Yes, joy waits, smiling, for me to tap it on the shoulder and whisper, “You’re it.” Together, our time is spent laughing and smiling, and crying.
Yes, something waits for me and comes as I accept human accolades, but it is not joy. I realize now that it is also not the success my soul seeks. In this moment, I will start my countdown while joy hides again. If I let myself laugh as I search, it won’t be hard to find her.
...