Friday, September 29, 2006

I’m wearing glittery red shoes.

Sometimes I find myself on the streets of Madrid, clicking my heels together, saying, “There’s no place like home; there’s no place like home.” There’s nothing like being in that place where you feel like playdough squished between a preschoolers hand–warm, safe, fitting between the cracks and gaps, perfect in each little crevice. It’s a great gift to be able to explore new corners of the world and to meet new, exciting, vibrant people full of character and interest. But something about that being known and metaphorically kicking back on the couch in silence, surrounded by the people you love, and the people that love you–it’s beautiful. And really, this is just a minuscule feeling compared to that feeling of being known and loved by God. I have this part in Donald Miller’s book, Searching for God Knows What , underlined –it’s like two whole pages (sorry Christy, it’s in purple pen: I couldn’t find a pencil). I can’t really share all of it, cuz I wanna make sure that we support the starving authors out there and buy a copy for ourselves, and not copy the whole thing on xanga, but here is just a clip, that makes me realize how much God really loves me, and how really He is the ultimate playdough holder.

“The circus, and I am talking about life now, really sucks. It feels like we all have these little acts, these stupid things we do that we all hang our hats on. The Fall has made monkeys of us, for crying out loud. . . . In this sense, as harsh as some of Jesus’ words are, they are also beautiful and comforting. No more worrying about what an audience thinks, no more trying to elbow our way to the top. We have Him instead, a God who redeems our identity for us, giving us His righteousness. . . . Imagine how much a man’s life would be changed if he trusted that he was loved by God? He could interact with the poor and not show partiality, he could love his wife easily and not expect her to redeem him, he would be slow to anger because redemption was no longer at stake, he could be wise with his money because money no longer represented points, he could give up on formulaic religion, knowing that checking stuff off a spiritual to-do list was a worthless pursuit, he would have confidence and the ability to laugh at himself, and he could love people without expecting anything in return. It would be quite beautiful, really.”

Quite beautiful, indeed.

Here’s to being beautiful . . . .