As we begin this month, our ninth month living with the coronavirus and the climactic month of this contentious political season, here are three things I'm pondering:
1. What motivates us to fight so hard for our rights? It could be argued that Americans value their individual rights above anything else. Why is this? Why are rights so meaningful to us that we're quick to do battle with coworkers, neighbors, and strangers over them? Why are they so important to us that we're willing to break relationship with friends and family members just to preserve them? The Constitution guarantees us certain rights, but do we stop to think about what those rights are for? Just so I can be free to do whatever I think is right or will make me happy? Or is there more to it? How should we be using our rights? How do we balance our rights with our responsibilities to others?
2. We all wish things would just get better already. But I wonder, why do we think that's going to happen? And what if "better" isn't what's best? I'm as fed up with 2020 as the next person. I look back longingly at how things were in the past. But in this bubbling stew of emotions I feel, one of them is excitement. I am excited to see God work. I don't relish the hardship of it, but I long for God to purify His church, His people, and do a mighty work in us. If this is what that looks like, then I'm all in.
Like most everyone else I know, I am praying for God to heal our land. But I'm open to the possibility that that could look different from what I'm hoping for. Maybe things won't get better. Maybe they'll get worse. What if worse is what we need? The church changes, focuses, and grows under pressure. We have plenty of examples (hello, China) of how God's kingdom advances in times of persecution. We can probably all look back in our lives and see how suffering brought greater devotion. As much as I love the words "easy" and "comfortable," I love "sanctification" and "righteousness" even more. With a big, deep gulp I pray, God, make us holy, by whatever means necessary.
3. My favorite passage of Scripture recently has been Psalm 103:13-14.
As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed; he remembers that we are dust."
Psalm 103 is worth reading every day. All of it is uplifting. But, oh, am I thankful that God included verses 13 and 14. I need Him to remind me that He knows how I'm formed. He knows I'm dust. No one has lofty expectations for dust. The messaging of my day tells me that I am strong, powerful, capable, ready to take on the world, and sometimes, on my best days, I might feel that way. But usually, I feel like dust, very aware of my weaknesses and shortcomings. God knows that. He reminds me that even though I am dust, I'm "a piece of earth breathing holy breath" as Twila Paris said it, and He has compassion on me.
He sees us, He knows how we are formed, and He has compassion on us. That's reason for rejoicing, even this November.
