we forget

I forget. Do you?

I think we all do at some point. And not just one time either, but many. It’s cyclical without reason.

The reality is so large, the difference so great, that in it’s largeness we somehow forget. It’s odd and it speaks to our knack for getting lost. Lost, may be a better word. For in our deepest hearts, we do remember, we have not completely forgotten. But we somehow have the capacity to live as though the reality is distant, not near.

And then, it’s like the soft but strong tug of a Dad’s hand as he pulls his child away from the busy street and into his lap. We plop down and remember the steady knee, the little bounce in his foot, and how his arms come tightly around us. It’s only when we are here that we know who we really are, who we are not, and who we can be.

However, in His love our Father let’s us tip toe away.

We creep up to the speeding cars, we run places our feet were never supposed to go, and in our deviation we feel a rush that our heart is deeply after. However, the rush fades, and our spirit of adventure (that was given to us) wants more. So instead of running back to the creator of adventure we seek to create our own. The whole time our Father, watches, His hand stretched out, waiting for us to make just one tiny step towards Him. But why? Our society tells us (all too often nonverbally) it’s boring, constrictive, and a waste of time. It’s a lie we know to be false but a falsehood we try to prove true over and over.

And then the falsehood seeps in. The emptiness takes a seat when the thrills evaporate. And here, by God’s grace, we take a tiny step, afraid that we must run miles in order to see Him again. Afraid, that we must run up a mountain, through a valley and then finally find Him again.

But His arm is larger than our wandering. And if it were up to our endurance to find Him we never would. This truth, if fully believed, would of sent us back after the first misstep, but the lie that we would have to run so far just to see His face again deters us another few weeks.

I have found that if we make only a nudge, only whisper a prayer, only show twinge of desire that we want to fully embrace our status as His child, His hand draws us in before we can complete our first step. It is here that our deepest desires are met, our worries expunged by His steady knee, and our sense of adventure satisfied in His rugged, calloused hands.

Our wandering will never outgrow His steady arms.

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