The Worth Of Knowing

It feels a bit to good be true: probably the most Christian way to live is from a place of rest, security, and love – to love from a place of being loved by God.

[When we resist that idea I think it’s insightful to ask why that is. For me, it often involves a misguided view of self and God.]

But the thing is, what if we’re so used to working that truly resting is unsettling? What if it makes us feel powerless?

What if we’re so used to distraction that being present is overwhelming? What if the constant hum of purposeless activity is more soothing to us than the simplicity of our reality?

What if we’re so used to worry that safety and security causes anxiety? What if we think we know better than to accept that things really are going well?

What if we’re so used to being treated as objects and means to an end that being treated as a whole person feels threatening? What if it feels like parts of our humanity that we didn’t know others knew existed (and maybe we didn’t even acknowledge) are now exposed?

What if we’re so used to conditional love that unconditional love feels dangerous? What if we’re so used to wagering that we’re “enough” that unconditional love feels like the bigger gamble?

And how does God meet us there?

My instincts say God meets us through the goodness His people, His creation, His Word and His Spirit. Repeatedly.

And maybe sometimes it feels like this goodness is shattering how we make sense of the world. Maybe sometimes it leads to anxiety and confussion and rashness as we grasp for pieces of the (all too) familiar.

But God and His goodness is always present.

This shattering is ultimately a gracious thing. It allows us to see the world more accurately. To see that we are, in fact, loved, safe, and valuable.

We learn to work not to earn rest and security, but because we have experienced rest and security.

And we learn to love more truly because we learn we are truly loved.