whizz! The little, Nerf football comes whirling a bit too close to my head, but I somehow manage to snag it.
My eldest loves to play catch with me. When I throw something that she is not able to catch, however, she usually informs me, “Mommy, you didn't throw that very well”.
I was feeling a little too irritated by this yesterday when God gently reminded me that this is what I do to Him.
When something happens during my day that doesn't suit me, I say “God, You didn't do that very well.”
When I look at myself in the mirror and notice the bags under my eyes, the blemish on my face, or the stretch marks on my stomach, I say “God, You didn't make this very well.”
How ridiculously arrogant I am!
Why can I not see that God does everything perfectly? Why can I not trust that all that He makes is beautiful?
Perhaps for the same reason that my eldest can't tell that I am throwing the ball perfectly...well, decently at least.
I am too focused on myself to be able to see God for Who He is.
When I am completely honest with myself, I am selfish and arrogant. I truly wish that God would conform to my standards of beauty and goodness. I desire for my body, my family, my life to all look a certain way.
When I do this, however, I settle for too little, my desires, as C.S. Lewis puts it in The Weight of Glory, are too weak:
Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that our Lord finds our desires not too strong but too weak. We are halfhearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.
God, please teach me to look at You instead of at myself. Please help me to keep my eyes focused You instead of at the things and people around me. Help me to not be satisfied with my own weak desires for mud pies but to crave more of You instead.
Perhaps then I can better learn how to catch what God gently tosses my way.