I walked in to a beautiful space today. The old church had stained glass and high vaulted ceiling. The dark wood and diffused light welcomed contemplation, connection, piety in the best sense of the word. I paused at a threshold from hallway to sanctuary and immediately questioned what it should take of me to enter through the doors. I wonder, do we still honor the holy places?
I was praying a few nights ago and as I crossed from awake to nearly asleep I felt a jolt deep inside as my whole body filled with the phrase “What if I am real?” I don’t usually act like God is real. I have aspirations most would consider “good” and “right” but in the light of God’s holiness I fall terribly headlong into darkness. I am an expert justifier of my unrighteous actions. I stubbornly choose blindness over admitting my folly. I choose what I deem as good and throw out what is a hindrance to my satisfaction, my flesh, and my desire in this life. I more often, as of late, look at God with eyes of defiance instead of love. I refuse to be satisfied by His presence alone and try to navigate with both feet in the world and just barely a nod to the only one that has the power to save and justify me.
And yet I sit among stained glass and holy imagery and feel the presence of this God that breaks the boundaries of our unrighteousness and makes the dirtiest places holy and is willing to track mud into them, holding us together with blood on our hands and greed in our eyes.
I keep circling the same mountain, unconquered. I feel that I should either have reached the summit and be looking out over my freedom, or that I should be given up on. But, when I take it to God He says, “You think I didn’t know what your struggles would be? I am prepared for you to come to me.” And he walks another round on this mountain with me.
Who is this God?