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Thursday, January 23, 2014

yet, He.

We are too content for our own good. 
We settle for less. 
We accept things for how they are, instead of fighting for what they could be. 
We find ourselves in a world, where nothing fully satisfies us, and somehow we have the audacity and brazenness as human beings to ignore that emptiness and not seek for truth and reason and wholeness.

Or maybe that's just me. 

I don't think C.S. Lewis could have said it any better when he noted that "It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at sea. We are far too easily pleased." 
(The Weight of Glory, and Other Addresses)

I am far too easily pleased. I am a sloth. A glutton. One who sees and is surrounded by God's inherent Word every second of every day. I am without excuse to reject His glory and yet, I do not on my own, desire even a skosh of goodness. (Romans 1:20) I am foul. And I actually SETTLE for that. 

How? When this glorious truth of grace waves before me, vying for my undivided attention. This ignorance is astounding. 

Yet, He. 
In all His goodness. 
He comes. 

"When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of Glory died, 
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, 
Save in death of Chris my God! 
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood. 

See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down! 
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet, 
Or thorns compose so rich a crown? 

Were the whole realm of nature mine, 
That were a present far too small; 
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all. "

Isaac Watts

He demands my soul, and somehow... I falter. All of me? Why do I not hand it over? Wretched heart that I am, I hold onto what I know best...and that is nothing short of villainous contempt, despair and disdain. 

Confession. I hold on to the things which hold no importance to them. I desire the things that separate me from God... and in that, God divinely shows His mercy and bids me come that I may thirst no more for desires that make my body wane in the darkness for lack of light. This fact that I truly am a scoundrel doesn't hit me or sink in nearly as often as it should... Yet, He. In all His goodness. He comes. And because I can't even have the benefit of actually desiring something good, places a desire in me that yearns for Him in all His purity, so that I too may partake of infinite joy. 

This Gospel. 
This good news. 
Astounds me.