Today's psalm tells us that even a modicum of righteousness is worth more than a boatload of unrighteousness….loosely translated. It could also be loosely translated: the smallest kindness is abundantly more valuable than a vault full of anything that is not kind.
Or, as we define the margin in our lives as space for God, a loose translation might read: every moment, every resource, every breath that we dedicate to our Creator transcends every moment filled with busywork, every resource spent on unnecessary stuff, every breath wasted on vanity and worry and fear and what other people might think of us….among other ungodly wastes of our precious God-given peace-of heart-and-mind.
A bit of margin for God is worth….everything.
But as we prepare for the birth of our God in the flesh, I wonder how much God we can actually bear in our lives. It is truly a daunting thing, if we are honest. Making room in our lives for the living God is…..or should be (forgive the verboten use of "should") a bit of a terrifying prospect. Because if the life, death and resurrection of Jesus is any indication of what the Living God looks like on earth, in our own lives, we are in for a very…daunting ride. If we are truly to make space for the Living God we are likely to be unpopular, we are likely to be uncomfortable, we are likely to suffer. But, oddly enough, we are also likely to find more peace and a deeper sense of meaning and belonging, than we have ever known before.
Making space for the Living God might have a much deeper implication than we expect, in our contemporary culture. For making space for God always comes at a cost. And when I think of what we are often willing to risk to encounter the Living God, I think of this poem by Wilbur Reese:
$3 Worth of God
I would like to buy $3 worth of God, please,
not enough to explode my soul
or disturb my sleep,
but just enough to equal
a cup of warm milk or
a snooze in the sunshine.
I want ecstasy,
not transformation;
I want warmth of the womb,
not a new birth.
I want a pound of the Eternal
in a paper sack.
I would like to buy $3 worth of God, please.
not enough to explode my soul
or disturb my sleep,
but just enough to equal
a cup of warm milk or
a snooze in the sunshine.
I want ecstasy,
not transformation;
I want warmth of the womb,
not a new birth.
I want a pound of the Eternal
in a paper sack.
I would like to buy $3 worth of God, please.
Wilbur Rees
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