Normal
It's a reality check to us all.
There are so many things that can always go wrong, yet don't.
And now, less than three days later, it's hard to believe that it even ever happened.
Of course, it's normal to sit on a bench in the early spring warmth, tell stories, take pictures.
To cook dinner and watch movies, play games and laugh.
But at the back of our minds, when it gets quiet, we slip into remembering: this could have been so very completely different.
And I ask myself the same question that I did freshman year of college:
Did I love enough?
(Do I ever?)
And how can I love better?
There are plenty of days, no shortage of news stories, that make me wonder:
Why are things so broken?
Why is so much wrong?
Why is there so much evil?
I don't remember where I first read someone asking this question now, but there are days and seasons when I find myself thinking:
Why all this good?
Why so much grace?
Why all this beauty?
And for a few moments, I am shocked again into remembering that every good and perfect gift comes from the Father. And He is gracious even when I am unnoticing, unmindful of the gifts. Oh, the question of "Why all this wrong?" is an easy enough one to ask, but it's easy enough to answer too. It doesn't take much introspection to know that my own heart is deceitful and warped, not naturally inclined to care about others unless it serves me, too.
But the question of "Why all this good?"
It takes looking outside of myself to answer.
In Mere Christianity, C. S. Lewis wrote,
“My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of just and unjust? A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line. What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust?”
It is truly amazing that an evening spent in friendship and fun, with perfect spring weather and plenty of food left over, is that seems normal and mundane to me. That ambulances and injuries and fear of funerals is the abnormal, even though I've lived in this fallen world all my life.
More than ever, I look forward to the life in the world to come.
There are so many things that can always go wrong, yet don't.
And now, less than three days later, it's hard to believe that it even ever happened.
Of course, it's normal to sit on a bench in the early spring warmth, tell stories, take pictures.
To cook dinner and watch movies, play games and laugh.
But at the back of our minds, when it gets quiet, we slip into remembering: this could have been so very completely different.
And I ask myself the same question that I did freshman year of college:
Did I love enough?
(Do I ever?)
And how can I love better?
Why are things so broken?
Why is so much wrong?
Why is there so much evil?
I don't remember where I first read someone asking this question now, but there are days and seasons when I find myself thinking:
Why all this good?
Why so much grace?
Why all this beauty?
And for a few moments, I am shocked again into remembering that every good and perfect gift comes from the Father. And He is gracious even when I am unnoticing, unmindful of the gifts. Oh, the question of "Why all this wrong?" is an easy enough one to ask, but it's easy enough to answer too. It doesn't take much introspection to know that my own heart is deceitful and warped, not naturally inclined to care about others unless it serves me, too.
But the question of "Why all this good?"
It takes looking outside of myself to answer.
In Mere Christianity, C. S. Lewis wrote,
“My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of just and unjust? A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line. What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust?”
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