Jayme Thompson
I’ve been thinking about all those rocks we dumped out and picked up and carried away on Ash Wednesday. I look at mine and I think about how tough I think I am but how easy I am to crack. That’s okay, I guess. Every groove and edge on my little rock tells a story. My rock looks a lot like your rock, but not exactly. It’s kind of cool looking and jagged in an interesting way, but it’s got a bump. I keep covering up the corner and pretending it’s more symmetrical that it really is. I like things that are pretty. My rock is pretty… almost.
I have no idea how many rocks we put out on Ash Wednesday. I don’t know how many people were there. I don’t know how many rocks were left over. I don’t know where all those rocks are now. But God, who counts stars, and grains of sand, and hairs on heads does know.
He knows what’s wrong with us. He knows how to fix us. He knows what we’re meant to be. He knows what we’re hiding – all about it.
Come clean. All the way. Get in the pool at Bethesda. This is it. The water is moving.
…
“They [human beings] wanted, as we say, to “call their souls their own.” But that means to live a lie, for our souls are not, in fact, our own. They wanted some corner in the universe of which they could say to God, “This is our business, not yours.” But there is no such corner.”
(From “The Problem of Pain”)
“Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account.” Hebrews 4:13
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
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