Lately it seems like I’m being struck on every side with the hurt, and brokeness that lie under the skin of this world. These things that “are not so nice to look upon so closely.*” I’ve been looking at them closely. One generation suffering for the sin of another, when the teenager is the adult of the house because the adults are acting like teenagers, choices… These aren’t pretty things to ponder. As I gaze out into this ever darkening, foggy moonless night it seems so big and unconquerable, but apparently God has overcome the world. It really makes you think about how big God is. You know?
Yet I’m still down here; I’m supposed to be in the world but not of it. That’s a tall order, especially now when I feel so small. Maybe that’s why Saul changed his name to Paul, (which means small): it reminded him how small he was, and how big God is. When you see how big God is the engulfing darkness doesn’t seem so powerful anymore, though it doesn’t make it any less real. It’s that change of perspective that keeps me from losing my sanity all together.
So when I “look upon” that which only gets worse under closer scrutiny I try to keep it in perspective. Life hurts, and it’s not easy, and it’s not simple, and it’s hard to understand, but Jesus has already overcome it. That gives me hope. So when the facade is peeled away once more, always when I least expect it, maybe I’ll remember that God has already conquered those motives, this worldliness: that sin.
Maybe, even though I don’t know how to pierce this blackness, a glimmer of Him will come shining through me, and I will discover that even a little light goes a long way. Maybe next time I walk around a corner, and it hits me: the unfairness of it all I will remember that God knows what He’s doing even when I don’t. I need to remember that it’s not up to me to fix this-because I can’t. I can’t but I know He can, and somehow, even when I can’t see it He is. He is working in the midst of this mess we call the world. If Jesus was afraid of getting His hands dirty He wouldn’t have come in the first place. He came. He came, and now we’re kneeling together; searching for the treasure beyond this dirt, this ground that has been exposed. Because we know that in here somewhere there is a treasure: a part of His image in them.
Next time the hurting catches me off guard I’ll try and remember to do my small part in helping Him dig deeper, for He has chosen me.