Not Christian Enough

I spent the morning with my dad today. He’s the author of “growing old gracefully”. Not that he’s old, but he’s ninety so by some people’s standards he is. I took him to get his taxes done, and even though he was given some potentially-not-so-awesome news, I could tell that he could care less about what his accountant was saying because his girlfriend is in the hospital.

What his accountant was saying was significant. He cared a little, but my dad knows that the things that matter when you’re ninety are not bank accounts and taxes. What matters is your ninety-three-year-old love in the hospital and you’re stuck in an office talking about money that is inconsequential in this moment. All you want to do is leave and go make sure she’s okay. It spoke volumes to me. What matters when you’re ninety is love and companionship and another day that’s as good as or hopefully better than the last. And those are the things should matter to me, too.

I’ve been kind of mad at God lately. Actually I’ve been kind of really mad at God. The circumstances of people that are precious to me, the state of the world, the fact that politics has taken over Facebook so much that I flinch when I look at it. Actually that last part probably isn’t God’s fault since I don’t think Facebook was actually in his master plan for us. And truly maybe none of it is God’s fault.

So when I got home, I went for a walk in the park by my house. Sometimes I do the (102) (!) stairs a few times, and while I'm trying to catch my breath and my heart feels like it's going to explode out of my chest, I have to decide if I’m going right at the top of the stairs through the park, or left at the bottom up to the river trail. Today I chose the former and it was a good decision.

What I think is mustard plants are growing taller than me, where it used to be just parched and cracked soil. Trails upon trails upon trails with a wild eruption of vivid yellow mustard plants as “walls” framing both sides. It’s remarkable. I thought about the redemption of that dry soil, and my dad who is all I want to be and more at 90, and a dear friend’s baby who has been long prayed over and finally, miraculously, is going to be okay, and all of the other things, and tried to pray. I listen to Jesus Culture and Bethel and Circuit Riders, all of whom have a theology that I’m not totally sure about…but I do love their music and it tends to inspire me even when I’m feeling uninspired. And I try to believe what I’m listening to, and I do, but I’m still kind of angry for the things I can't change. And I try to figure out if that’s okay. To love Jesus but be completely confused about why he won’t just do what I want. Blah.

I got home and sat down to write out this rant, thinking no one will want to read it because it’s depressing and I’m “positivity” and all. And these lyrics poured out of my earbuds from a song called Still:

Don’t you know I calmed the raging sea?
Don’t you know I hold your heart?
Child, listen, slow down, slow down, slow down
I speak to you in miracles
I show love through My power                   
But sometimes just be still and know that “I Am”

Dang it. So here’s what I think I’m supposed to take from this. That taxes, and politics, and Facebook, and politics ON Facebook are not the things that matter to God. That he’s okay with my anger and my questions and even my forgetfulness of all the people and places where he has been faithful. Because he IS faithful, and miraculous, and cares about every little thing always and forever. Even when I’m mad.