It was around lunchtime when it started happening. The sick feeling. My mind reeling. Why? Why do I do things that aren’t pleasing to God? Why can’t I just follow faithfully? Why is it that I stumble and stumble and stumble?
It stopped mattering what the “things” were years ago. No titling things “little” or “big”. Sin is sin. It’s ugly and nasty. And it stinks. Makes all of life start reeking.
I remember when I read the book, The Practice of the Presence of God, and came to the understand that God wants to be involved in the intimate details of our lives. Nothing is too little. Nothing is too big. He cares. End of story.
Living by the Spirit is what Brianna and I called it. There was a whole season of my teenage years that we kept each other accountable to this. “Have you been listening?” We would ask.
I wish I had someone asking me that still.
Have you been listening to the Spirit of God? Have you been following what he says? He cares, you know.
Does He really care whether I make chocolate chip cookies today? I think so. Not because it matters whether or not I do but because he wants to hear about it.
And sometimes, oh, sometimes, it does matter!
Some days I might need the chocolate chip cookies coming out of the oven just as a neighbor stops to ask a question about their tractor. And they can be invited to sit and eat a couple. And my husband might answer the question and then ask one of his own. Do you know Jesus?
And a chocolate chip cookie might change a life.
So quickly we label things. Important/Unimportant. Holy/Not Holy.
And I forget.
I get lost in my own little world where I’m all that matters and piles of sin fill my life until the stench drives me to my knees.
But God wants me. He wants you. He wants to be involved in every aspect of your life. He cares. He loves. He fills. He redeems.
Yesterday after church, a friend handed me a beautiful red rose. She whispered, “God loves you. The red is to remind you of his blood. The thorns to remind you that he bore your pain on himself.”
All the way home I held the rose in my hand. My fingers ran over the sharp thorns. And one word kept running through my mind. Yada, yada, yada.
yada: to know, to be known and to be deeply respected
A word that has been changing lives lately. Mine included. The word that reminds me that God knows, intimately. And he wants to be known by me.
Suddenly it makes sense that he cares about chocolate chip cookies and the lies that slip from my lips and the anger that spills from my heart. Of course he cares.