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Love and Resistance

I know God answers prayer. He’s answered mine, at times in dramatic ways, perhaps to let me know He’s actually listening.

God moves my heart and my life in directions every day, and as I look back, I can see where. But I’ve heard him actually speak to me three times in my life, twice in my head, once out loud. I don’t talk about it a lot – no one wants to be accused of hearing voices. But when you get really honest with another believer of any years, you find we’ve almost all had the experience.

When I’m spending a lot of time in the Bible, I do better than when I don’t, because scripture is the primary place He makes Himself known to me.

All of this to say, I have absolutely no doubt the God of the Bible exists and that He cares about my life.

Yet, I so often operate in ways that seem like I don’t really believe what I’ve just said. Why? We ask the question often. A friend and I asked it of each other recently, marveled at our weird recalcitrance.

Of course, we’re just sinners saved by grace. Sinners mess up. As well, we live in a world that 24/7 screams, cajoles, wheedles, teases, whines, cries—“Ignore what God wants. He’s not what you need.”

But still, what is that resistance? I’m grieving for my father who passed away last month. He died in the best possible way. His passing was full of grace and peace. I’m not angry at God for taking Him, I’m thankful for how it all went down. I know the more time I spend talking with God about my grief, about how much I miss my mom and dad, the more time I study the Bible, the better I will feel. The more He’ll teach me about both living and dying. The more peace, the more comfort.

But I resist it. I curl up in my bed with my headphones and listen to music. Fall back on my favorite works of fiction to escape. Spend afternoons sipping tea and zoning out with the sun on my face. None of these things are bad, some are even helpful. They’re just not as helpful as would be fellowship with my living, Creator God who loves me.

We are strange creatures. Why does He love us? But He does, and it brings me to my knees and into His arms. His love does that—and maybe this is the moral of the story. It seems that love is always the lesson.

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