In the rubble

Mexico City, September 2017

Rubble, piles of rubble

Dust, silence, shouting, people rushing to save those who may be trapped

And this is how I see God

I am beneath the rubble

He is searching for me and I for Him

Sometimes I am in the rubble, crying out for Him

He hears me, yet I don’t know He is there

Sometimes I am in the rubble, silent

Not knowing I need Him, perhaps not caring if I die there

He never ceases His work to rescue me, even when rescue doesn’t seem possible

Yes, He allowed the circumstances that put me in this place, at this time

In the rubble

The rubble has something to teach me

Something unimaginably profound

Thank you, Lord

Thank you for loving me, for your unceasing efforts to bring me to you

Come find me

Please

This morning, reading about and seeing images of the earthquake in Mexico City, it reminded me of my evolving relationship with God. Then I read this prayer by Ted Loder from Guerillas of Grace and the picture became clearer:

 

 

O Eternal One,
It would be easier for me to pray
        if I were clear
                and of a single mind and a pure heart;
        if I could be done hiding from myself
     and from you, even in my prayers.
But, I am who I am,
        mixture of motives and excuses,
                blur of memories,
   quiver of hopes,
                knot of fear,
            tangle of confusion,
        and restless with love,
     for love.
I wander somewhere between
        gratitude and grievance,
                wonder and routine,
                       high resolve and undone dreams,
                               generous impulses and unpaid bills.
Come, find me, Lord.
Be with me exactly as I am.
Help me find me, Lord.
        Help me accept what I am,
                so I can begin to be yours.
Make of me something small enough to snuggle,
        young enough to question,
               simple enough to giggle,
                      old enough to forget,
                             foolish enough to act for peace;
         skeptical enough to doubt
                the sufficiency of anything but you,
         and attentive enough to listen
                as you call me out of the tomb of my timidity
                       into the chancy glory of my possibilities
                              and the power of your presence.