Gelato stirs up a memory of St. Boniface. There’s something about Common Ground’s logo and this atmosphere that makes me think this coffee shop wasn’t meant for business. Little girls in summer dresses squeal in delight to indicate their options; a refreshing disruption to zoom calls and masculine conversations. They feel most like what the space was made for … sugar and excitement.
I have this note in my journal that I keep coming back to . . . as squeals become a little too animated; reactively Shhhhh!ed by caffeinating parents.
When children create, their focus and concentration originate from the belief that what they’re working on is good, and in anticipation of acceptance, reception, and celebration. They do not fixate and toil from a place of insecurity, uncertainty, or competition. And not in anticipation of rejection. Those things are learned. In our earliest years, we intuitively compare without competing. We assess differences to understand nuance and learn characteristics, building out schema.
Lately, my art won’t be tracked down in manageable increments. It spills forth miles away from my instruments and shuts down when I’ve finally gotten ‘still’. Probably because sitting still and being still are different.
I’ve been in the throes of learning about anger and intimacy. The distillation of what I believe God is showing me as my anger interrupts my ability to delight in His presence is that the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God. ‘Righteous Anger’ is given the pre-fix because it is the more rare kind; the kind that is full of faith and works by love.
Typical anger is an emotion that no more necessitates a value attachment than sadness or sugared up excitement. Like the others, it holds lessons when we listen … of how we’re put together and what’s important to us.
But fits of anger and acting in rage are idolatry.
God’s wrath is a function of His love. And so is ours. The difference is, our love is often misplaced. I get angry when I perceive that what I love most is threatened. My sense of entitlement to flawlessness and effortlessness is typically the idol that ignites rage in me. When I am most in love with God’s glory and with Him, I am least irritable and far less often agitated.
He still wants to know. He wants to know about the small things that upset me and He won’t let me get away with isolation. He wants inside the walls I erect when I’m tired of being tired of how imperfect everything is; and when I get perturbed at Him for what He does with His timing. The thought occurred to me yesterday that if I really believed – or when I really believe – that it’s God’s job to take care of and sustain me, and that He will do it well; I’m far less concerned with how He goes about it.
‘You don’t care.’ is a conclusion that embittered and offended people come to. And so often it’s the time God is taking that offends me.
But I believe that He is determined for His people to know that He will not bow to the tyranny of time that we’ve created. He is the Maker of Sabbath and rest. Faith and patience. Endurance and eternity.
Shortcuts are of no concern to the immortal. And the only way to develop endurance is to live through time under tension.