I’ve always been a realist. I like things to be tangible, logical, accountable. If I can see, taste and touch it then I can account for how and why something happened, make good decisions, and accurately assess the consequences—both good and bad. This is how I live my life. Boring? Perhaps. Predictable? I suppose. To me, it’s safe, understandable, stable…
It’s not that bad things don’t happen to me, that is not what I mean, but that I usually understand why both good and bad happen because I can analyze the reality of the situation…usually.
Unfortunately I was convicted this week by my safe, stable environment. The fact that my world is so secure, is not necessarily good. Because God is not a realist.
God is a Romantic, probably the ultimate Romantic. And the stories he writes for each of us is more beautiful and full of inexplicable, delightful acts of love full of as much passion as we will allow. And that’s just the thing. My nature is limiting to God. Not that I control him, but I continually try to control what he is and what he does in my life to keep everything in order. Safe. Secure. Real.
How depressing.
Instead of experiencing the awesome power and passion that God has in store for me, I try to tell God when and where I need it, like I know better than he does.
But I don’t.
Intellectually, I recognize this, but intellectually is really the problem so I am working on a heart transplant. Becoming more open, freeing myself from this mind trap of realism and shifting my attitude toward the possibilities. As I told my students when we studied American Romanticism: Romantics see what could be, realists see what is.
Expecting more from God invites him to work his incredible and awesome power into our lives, and that passion shakes things up and shows us what it means to truly be alive. After all, we should live, not just be.
So this is my prayer: Lord, free me from my own limitations. I want to see your power and presence at work in my life even if it rocks my world…especially if it rocks my world. Amen.
