Return and Re-evaluate
I just got back from the annual year-end camp that my church organises, and my goodness I'm aching all over from the past four days (including today) of hectic activity and incredible madness... I'll say, however, that I certainly don't regret it at all. It's been a great experience.
And in fact right now I'm looking at my previous posts and wondering if they aren't, perhaps, a little off-topic. In fact they're terribly off-topic, because they don't seem to get to the main issue at all... It's surprising how one can get all tied up in little sidetracks (in my case, I seem to worry far too much about how much I demonstrate of God in my life) and totally forget that the whole affair only comes about because of God Himself. Because, of course, He was the One Who came to earth for us in the first place, and everything after that is merely responding to that initiative. Naturally, you can only respond appropriately if you know what happened and understand its significance--which, you see, leads me to suspect that my method of answering the Corn's question to me was all the wrong way to go about it. The question, you see, is not "What is God to me?" but "What am I to God?" And from that, you get the obvious answer: For if He chose to be like us and to die for us, then we must, somehow, have a great value for Him. In fact (to use an economic term) we are something like fiat currency--paper money--no use in and of ourselves, but holding value because Somebody out there decided that we are worth loving.
And that, you see, instantly answers whatever the question may lead to: I have to change, not because it's any choice of my own, but because if He made me--and He did--then He must know what's the best sort of life I could possibly lead (which, obviously, I don't know), and therefore I'd be best used by Him instead of trying to make myself a comfy little nook wherever: it may not be such a comfortable life in the end, but God knows it ought to be a fulfilling one. One might not read about martyrs dying in mounds of soft pillows and satiny blankets, but they always seem to die happily. Not to mention that the burning passion they seem to have in common is... somehow quite apparently desirable, even though I can hardly imagine myself being so passionate. Still, I do take to food and a comfortable bed and a good book (among other things) like an iron filing to a magnet, so I do have my passions after all. Now if only I could make Him one of those...
And in fact right now I'm looking at my previous posts and wondering if they aren't, perhaps, a little off-topic. In fact they're terribly off-topic, because they don't seem to get to the main issue at all... It's surprising how one can get all tied up in little sidetracks (in my case, I seem to worry far too much about how much I demonstrate of God in my life) and totally forget that the whole affair only comes about because of God Himself. Because, of course, He was the One Who came to earth for us in the first place, and everything after that is merely responding to that initiative. Naturally, you can only respond appropriately if you know what happened and understand its significance--which, you see, leads me to suspect that my method of answering the Corn's question to me was all the wrong way to go about it. The question, you see, is not "What is God to me?" but "What am I to God?" And from that, you get the obvious answer: For if He chose to be like us and to die for us, then we must, somehow, have a great value for Him. In fact (to use an economic term) we are something like fiat currency--paper money--no use in and of ourselves, but holding value because Somebody out there decided that we are worth loving.
And that, you see, instantly answers whatever the question may lead to: I have to change, not because it's any choice of my own, but because if He made me--and He did--then He must know what's the best sort of life I could possibly lead (which, obviously, I don't know), and therefore I'd be best used by Him instead of trying to make myself a comfy little nook wherever: it may not be such a comfortable life in the end, but God knows it ought to be a fulfilling one. One might not read about martyrs dying in mounds of soft pillows and satiny blankets, but they always seem to die happily. Not to mention that the burning passion they seem to have in common is... somehow quite apparently desirable, even though I can hardly imagine myself being so passionate. Still, I do take to food and a comfortable bed and a good book (among other things) like an iron filing to a magnet, so I do have my passions after all. Now if only I could make Him one of those...
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