A Staring Match With God

God has a sense of humor, and sometimes it is at my expense. I’m goofy by design. Things come out of my mouth before I have the time to realize how silly they sound. I worked in construction a while back and discovered how uncoordinated I truly am. I’d be off day dreaming about standing on mountains and running through valleys, then realize I’d installed a cabinet door up-side down or mis-measured the lengths for a door frame, after building the frame. Not only did God let out a little laugh, my work crew did too.

There is a darker side to God’s humor though. One I am all too familiar with. It comes out in the form of discipline towards my hardened heart when He is calling me back to intimacy after I’ve wondered off to pursue less passionate lovers and less satisfying pleasures.

God is constantly working on the hearts of his people. Sometimes breaking, sometimes mending. Sometimes molding and sometimes holding. Personally, He’s breaking me… again. Pride has slipped in, bitterness has taken root and the pain that has caused these things has led to numbness. God’s work in me is repetitious and comes in cycles. I cannot count the number of spiritual heart surgeries I’ve had, but its been a few. I’m not really a fan of them, but every time He’s finished I’m thankful. Its like an extension on life. We sometimes call it grace and it is very sufficient, even if it is painful.

I think it is cool that God is jealous after me like this. It is intimidating though, and I resist it. Yet somehow I find myself in a boxing ring. I’m all alone, sitting in a folding chair in the center of the ring. All the lights are out, save one dim yellow bulb hanging overhead that casts a pale glow all around. There is an empty chair across from me. I hear footsteps in the dark as a silent God approaches. I am anything but calm. My insides tremble violently, but I don’t show it. I just breathe slowly and smoothly. God steps into the ring, but I look away, as if I don’t notice Him. He sits in the chair facing me and waits. And waits. And waits.

Then it begins. I turn my head slowly and catch His eyes. I stare at Him, unflinchingly, as He stares into me. Cold and calculating, I have prepared for this, to resist to the death. Unmoved by the piercing gaze of heaven. Surely He cannot love me, will not love me this much.

Unmeasured time passes while an invisible, unnoticed audience of heaven holds their breath in anticipation, though they already know the outcome. They’ve seen it all before. The watching and the waiting are only penance to witness this glorious struggle.

They are as not to me, however. I’m focused on fortifying my wall of will against the battering ram of God’s gaze, tender and patient though it is. He speaks to me in His silence, softly and firmly, “You are mine.” I remain stoic and steadfast. “You’re more than you think, you are mine.” Tired of His approach I lean back from being hunched over, elbows on my knees. I cross my arms but never lose His unbreakable stare. How long will he continue on with this.

Then something happens. Maybe because of my shift in position, something gets caught in my throat. I clear it out and remain resolute in my aim, to out-will the love of God. More time passes, though I barely blink at the breaking of the Lord. Again His silence speaks, “You are more because of me and you are mine.” I sigh a little, breathing out an air of indigence into the face of undeterred grace.

Yet God presses on. Now He leans forward, elbows to His knees, with an increased intensity and startling boldness. Unsettled by His move I waver a little, unsure of how not to respond. The mounting tension begins to affect me and it is harder to hold on to my futile resistance. He speaks again, only this time audibly with ferocious veracity and fierce determination, “You are my child whom I have made, I have crafted, I have called. Unmoved is my resolve and ever will it be, my boundless and endless love for the one I have called my own.” He stands to His feet with his exploding words ringing in my ears, “You, son of God, are mine and I love you.” Shattered are my defenses and broken is my heart. I fall uncontrollably to the floor of the ring, pushing my chair back, out of the light. Tears pour from my eyes that can no longer gaze into His, but I undoubtedly see His heart and am completely undone by its gaze. I’m moved to utter collapse by the powerful love of a gracious God, who picks me up and restores my contrite soul.

This is the God I know, the God I serve, the God I love. I’m often shocked by His majesty and even more dismayed by His unending love for me and concern for the condition of my heart even in the face of my rejection and blasphemy. If I had one prayer tonight it would be the words of a poet, John Donne:

Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town to'another due,
Labor to'admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly'I love you, and would be lov'd fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;
Divorce me,'untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you'enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.