8:03 a.m. Sometimes Mondays really feel like a Monday. Stuff has piled up over the weekend -- work, laundry, email, dishes, and God knows what else. It's all in a tangled heap, everything is urgent, nothing is working out, and oh by the way, where is God is all this?
The tidy theological response of course -- and indeed the one that our entire faith relies on -- is that God is right here with us. Hrumph. That does not exactly help with the tangled heap, now does it? I would be grateful if God could just take a moment out of saving the world and fold some clothes for me. Is that too much to ask?
I wonder though, as I sit here frustratingly pounding on the keys of my keyboard, if maybe I got it backwards. (Really, I wouldn't be surprised given how the day is going so far.) Maybe I am the one who might take a moment out of the tangled heap and help God fold some clothes. Maybe knocking out even one little task will help God move salvation history forward one more day.
I have great fears about this. I rarely have things of value piling up. Laundry, yes. I have crying towels that I could use help laundering. Worthy acts that might contribute to God's salvation history, not so much. I forgave my mother, who tried to beat and molest God out of me her entire life. I attempt other great spiritual acts. "Attempt" is the key word here.
"A worm and no (wo)man am I, despised by all in my sin." I cannot move with my own salvation. Can I really help with God's? If so, please share the secret of how.
Once I *knew* I was doing what was pleasing to God. No more.