The girl-woman is becoming.
She is sure—but not all that sure—of what she knows. A teenager, she sees a world that is too horrible to be lived in, but knows unequivocably that she will live in it (and wouldn’t miss it for anything).
And so, she is becoming.
Becoming is hard work. Confidence and confusion coexist side by side. Brilliant inspiration and murky misunderstanding vie constantly for the upper hand.
The child is giving way to the woman as choices are made, options are considered, and future pathways determined.
I used to think this was the norm. Children become adults and the process of becoming is complete. We make our choices and live with them. And, die with them.
You see, this old man is becoming, as well.
Sixty years have passed and the choices I have made and the roads I’ve taken are challenged nearly every day of my walk through this world—the world too horrible to live in, yet too precious to miss.
I was moved—even sad—as we talked, the girl-woman and I. She made a statement to which I objected completely.
I’m pretty sure God is mad at me.
It seemed to me the words were largely a response to the horrible world in which she finds herself growing up. I wanted to hug her tight and assure her it wasn’t true.
My intellect knows it’s not true. My heart does also. And yet, since that evening, each time my mind goes to the words, my eyes fill with tears.
The tears are for her. No, not only for her.
The tears are also for me.
I said I know it’s not true. I do.
That doesn’t stop the questions. It doesn’t keep me from wondering why life isn’t going the way I thought it would. It doesn’t quiet the voice inside that wants to scream in frustration at every delay and inferred no from God.
I’m pretty sure God is mad at me.
But He’s not.
Without us making a move to please Him, He declared openly His great love for us by giving His only Son to die in our place. (Romans 5:8)
Does that seem like the act of someone who is enraged? It’s not the way I treat folks when I’m angry at them.
His perfect love leaves no room for fear. (1 John 4:18)
My fears for the future, my fears for my family, my fears for the physical needs that are still waiting to be provided for—all of these fears and more—simply prove that I’ve not yet fully experienced the love of a Creator who can’t bear for His creation to be separated from Him and wants nothing but good for us.
And so, I am becoming.
We are becoming.
God, who began this good work in our hearts, has promised to continue the work until the day we reach the finish line. (Philippians 1:6)
For all the starts and stops, the detours and the delays, the becoming has never stopped.
As we come, we become. The meaning is essentially the same. We are moving from one state of being into another. Coming to His grace and becoming the men and women He is making us into.
The God who invites us to come, is causing us to become.
The God who is not mad at us gives us grace and mercy for the journey. He gives us companions, both young and old, to walk beside us.
As we walk hand in hand.
‘It doesn’t happen all at once,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.’
(from The Velveteen Rabbit ~ Margery Williams ~ Author ~ 1881-1994)
The Spirit and the bride say, “Come.” Let anyone who hears this say, “Come.” Let anyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who desires drink freely from the water of life.
(Revelation 22:17 ~ NLT ~ Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. All rights reserved.)
© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2017. All Rights Reserved.