Spirit On the Water (Grateful Tuesdays #7)

O God!

I'm a roaring hypocrite! But here I am again, giving thanks to save my life.

I am two people, God. I am a lazy, apathetic, lustful, prideful, self-worshipping and manipulative user. And I am perfect, sinless, affirming, truthful, alive and loving. I give you endless thanks that the second one is the real me, the part that will live on come eternity.

"Come eternity." What a thought. Let's see if I can form this into words, God:

I have always (almost always) had a problem with time, and as I get older and have more experiences in this world, the more the thought of time kind of bums me out. It seems to kill so many things and so many relationships, and there are so many things I'll never have back, things that are far too far downstream to even be very confident of the accuracy of their memory now. But look at this: Humans and angels (it seems to me) are different in this way; angels dwell in the finality of eternity. We humans do not. It seems to me that an angel's choice is a final choice.

I'm grateful because we don't live in that finality, not yet anyway. Sure we live with it, the thought of death and of entering into a place where we don't have the luxury of putting off decisions accompanies us everywhere. Especially in the car, and especially when I'm driving. (I cannot spell the word "especially", God, but you know that, and you know that I'm very fond of that fact now.)

So, in summery, I am, in a way, now very grateful for time for the luxury of it. Even though it seems to go so fast and so slow.

Thank you for giving us bodies that live in time. Thank you for the song "Sweet Old World" which makes me grateful for the treasures that you've given us outside of eternity (that's not to say that they are not of eternal worth or even eternal in origin). Thank you for Sufjan Stevens, who lives in a house of gratitude maybe more so than any other musician I know.

I keep looking up at the title of this post (which I just mostly picked at random from a Bob Dylan song), and I keep thinking about your creative power, about your Spirit which moved on the water and your Word, by which (and through which) you spoke every created thing into existence. Thank you for being a creative God, God. And thank you for communicating which your creation. Whenever I think of your involvement in your creation, I think about sex. Now if you've given that as a picture of your relationship with us, then I think I can say that you want to be pretty involved in our lives.

So I thank you that the lives aren't true; I thank you that you desire intimate communion with us more than we can fathom. You're beautiful, God. Reality is beautiful. Truth is beautiful. Thank you for speaking these things into our lives. I just can't get over that you communicate with us and that you commune with us. Now I see a little truth in those stories of Zeus coming down and being overtaking with the beauty of a common girl. They're still kind of disgusting stories but I see the truth in them now.

You are the author of beauty, God, so it makes sense that you would be beautiful.

Wait a minute. You made us beautiful and then fell in love with us because of our beauty? We can't really do a lot of bragging in there, can we? Wow. That's crazy. What a fantastic design you have, God. So intricate! So enchanting! Like little flowers on a patter. Think of all the writing and the painting and the film and all the babbling of prophets and theologians just to kind of give a idea of who you are. That's crazy.

I don't really know you that well, do I God? Knowing you is a pretty basic part of life. Thank you that you still love me even though I'm botching even this basic thing pretty badly. Thank you that you love me even though I make typing errors and I can't spell very well. Thank you that you love me.

Thank you that you love me even though I have messed up some things, broken or bent some things you have put in my hands to look after and admire. Thank you that you love me even though my room is messy and my lips are always kind of chapped and bumpy.

Thank you that you love me, God. You're crazy for loving me, you know. I don't know what you expect to get out of the relationship.

Well, maybe I do. Maybe you want me.