Rashes and Runny Noses

When I remember what I have, what I don't have get's smaller. It fades away into the distance like a forgotten nightmare. I tend to focus on the flaws, on the problem. I'm good at finding the flaws- in an idea, a person, my piano student's finger technique. But soon the little flaw, the little speck of dust starts getting pretty large and I start freaking out because it's actually a black hole coming to devour every bit of joy and peace I have. And just like that I loose. I feel awful. Nothing is right. Everything is wrong. It's the end of the world.

The speck and the log...remove the log from your own eye so you can remove the speck in your brothers eye. How often do we turn specks into logs and miss the actual log? There are logs. There are big problems in our lives that need removing. I just think we're not usually aware of them. Judging others is a big problem but I feel like Jesus is pinpointing a human tendency that is deeper- one that is constantly devouring us. Our perspective is limited and therefore our perception is flawed or at the very best, incomplete. We don't see the universe from the right angle. We don't have a good vantage point. We are tiny ants in a huge kitchen. Two-dimensional beings in a million-dimensional world. We are not God and we are small. And our limitations make us extremely vulnerable to blindness.

For weeks now I've been stressing about Winter not sleeping through the night, about a rash on her bottom, about runny noses, about money, about friends. And whenever one stressful thing ends, I pounce on another and turn it into a black hole that devours me day after day, night after night. God, I want to be done.

Our lives are filled to overflowing with His grace. His love is everlasting. It surrounds us and hems us in on every side. He is our rock and our deliverer. He has plucked us out of the flames, rescued us from death. He gives good gifts and He knows what we need. He is strong and good. I'm weak and pretty bad. So why is my default to try and figure things out for myself until I'm really stuck and then cry out to God in panic. The thing is, we've all been doing it since infancy. This aching pull to be independent, to do things ourselves, which really means breakdown of relationship, breakdown of vulnerability and love...we've been doing this since birth. We've been living in the echo of Adam and Eve's loneliness for thousands of years.

On the second day of Winter's life I noticed something. When I tried to pull her in to breastfeed her she would squirm and wriggle and complain. When I let her find the milk herself, it took longer but she wouldn't complain. I don't know how it's possible for a such a young life to already be tugging away, already trying to do things for herself. Is it always wrong to be independent? Of course not. We have separate bodies. We are built for independence. But we are also built for dependence. The tension moves back and forth like the tide. We are forever in need of each other. We are forever standing alone before God's face.

I have a vision often, a strong impression of what it will feel like to stand before Him- before all of that greatness and splendor and love. Before the face I ache for every moment. Before the face that is the answer to every pain, every tear, every fear and darkness. In that vision I feel my aloneness more than I have ever felt- not loneliness like i feel on earth- my utter nakedness in the universe...every pain and joy of my soul exposed...but the nakedness is comforting. Somehow before Him, I am glad I'm naked. In that vision I am home. Probably my deepest fear is losing someone I love to death- David, my sister, my parents, Winter. And I wonder, could I face Him even in that- in His taking away could I still look Him in the eye. And somehow I know I could. I know that His face is enough.

Beyond the log, beyond the speck...is His face. Beyond the real logs- the darkness, the turmoil, the longing, the fear...is His face.

And in the meanwhile. We have each other's faces. To remind us of joy, of love, of hope. To ignite and reignite the image of God that we carry. To acknowledge, to comfort, to weep and rejoice with. To remind us that the black holes aren't so black and holey...and the rashes and runny noses aren't so bad.