God is feeling so big in my heart right now that it’s hard to go through the every day motions of washing dishes, listening to Umi Zumi stream in the background, vacuuming up dirt and tiny specs of glitter and sequins—the dress-up leftovers of two girls’ epic game of pretend.
I started reading a book called “Anything,” by Jennie Allen.
The question she poses goes something like this:
If this world is all we have, then why are we living so morally and well behaved?
But if God is real, then why aren’t we living like it? Why aren’t we pouring out our hearts, lives, passions, and possessions on God’s altar, and living all-the-way for HIM?
Why? Because I don’t want to be a zealot.
zealot (noun): a person who is fanatical and uncompromising in pursuit of their religious, political, or other ideals.
((“Because I don’t want to be a zealot,” the pastor’s wife said (and the congregation snickered.))
My feet are here in the mess of right now, but the spiral of pain and the difficulties of this life are out of my control. So my heart gets on tiptoes and tries to peek into God’s glory. I pray, “God give me more of you,” and it makes my head buzz with hope. But then this world keeps spinning in its pragmatic pattern. My tiny world keeps reeling from the same soundtrack of chores, and errands, books, and bedtime. It’s so hard to contain God’s glory in this ordinary life.
Mary had her feet planted on a dirt floor when she had a vision. When the angel left she had to go about the every day tasks of right now. Maybe she rubbed her eyes and wondered if it was real after her wonder wore off. But God grew inside her until she couldn’t ignore Him any longer.
I will keep doing these ordinary things, knowing God came in the most ordinary way.
But I will also lift my hands to Heaven, and shout, “Anything, Lord!” Have your way with my heart and life. And then I will doubt and try to take it back again. But it is already out there, my heart waits tentatively in the light, trusting that this great God will also be gentle and kind as he shepherds my lost heart home.
“Amen! Praise and glory and wisdom and thanks and honor and power and strength be to our God for ever and ever. Amen!” Revelation 7:12 (NIV)
“Anything,” starts with a tentative whisper, then grows like a fire in our belly, until we long for a story that is greater than our own plans can contain. A God we can cradle, yet whose glory our hearts cannot even grasp, yes this God is capable of everything—and we can be confident that He can hold our, “anything.”