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- Written by: Don Goulding
And if I have prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith so that I can remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. (1 Corinthians 13:2)
I ran from place to place and wired explosives. Other people interrupted, but I couldn’t let on what I was really doing. I gave platitudes to keep them content. Breaking from the crowd, I sprinted to the detonation site. Then I woke from my dream, shaken and breathing hard.
“Lord, what does it mean?” I asked.
In the quiet of my prayer closet, the Holy Spirit gave his interpretation.
“Don, you are conspiring to bring explosive change to the people you shepherd. You run around wiring for a new start for your church, instead of truly loving the souls that will be blown up in the process.
“Slow down and care for people, not your programs, or your bigger, brighter future. Because, if you build the greatest ministry in the world, lead thousands to Christ, and witness your land swept into repentance, but don’t engage people with my love, then you’ve done nothing.”
My chin hung to my chest. “Lord, will I ever get out of spiritual kindergarten? Forgive me, yet again. Help me to love whoever will let me. Teach me to know them, enjoy good things with them, and offer your peace for the hurts in their lives.
“Help me to see the individual, and not the crowd.”
Prayer: Patient Savior, walk me into a deeper love.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
But Jesus called for the children, saying, “Let the little children come to me and do not try to stop them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child will never enter it.” (Luke 18:16-17)
I pedaled past a line of preschoolers out for a nature walk. They lit up at the sight of a funny man on a bicycle. One little guy leaned out of the line, beamed a smile, and chirped, “Hello there.” His dimpled hand polished off the salutation with a vigorous wave.
It was over before my sluggish brain could push a response past my mouth. A bubble of God’s love had swelled out of that young life and burst onto me. It was a reminder that there is no barrier between God’s heart and a child’s voice.
I want a faith like that tyke. I want to effervesce when the Spirit moves me, and live free from stalling doubts. Why do I hold back to assess the risk? Then the moment is lost.
“Hello there.” “Are you happy like I am?” “Isn’t God’s love great?” Why don’t I spread joy around like a child? Everyone needs a smile and a cheerful word. What can I hope to accomplish by my prudish reservation? The Lord can’t use me to evangelize the nations until I can love like a four-year-old.
Perhaps I could elect senility before it’s compelled by age. I could regress to a less jaded worldview. I’d be silly, laugh at my self-important ideas, and go on the lookout for chances to tickle people. After all, who’s mature if it’s not the soul free from worry? Regression would allow me to move past my constipated pride and sprinkle joy on others.
If I bubbled spontaneous love like that happy preschooler, then I’d know, without a doubt, that I was plugged into God.
Prayer: Father, make me childlike again.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
God created humankind in his own image,
in the image of God he created them,
male and female he created them. (Genesis 1:27)
Near our church, at the end of the street, is a camellia garden. One perfect but completed bloom fell to the mulch below. Its circlet of snowy petals was tinted with rouge, out on the tips, just so. Wafer-thin fingers of vibrancy reached from the mud, and implored me, “I am still alive, and too fine a thing to be down here.”
What makes the delicate membranes, geometric construction, and blended hues of a flower attractive to us? Why is the emerald head of a mallard handsome, or the vibrations of a symphony intoxicating, or the rainbow’s arc of prism colors jaw-dropping? What causes the breathless pause when a poem completes its rhythm using precisely the right word? In other words, why was my fallen camellia enthralling, but the mulch around it common?
A wildly creative God made no two humans alike, so we will never fully agree on what is beautiful. Still, there are some commonalities to our definitions. We like patterned symmetry, but also the unique and rare. We want things pure and unflawed. We desire order, but with creativity. We crave the rhythm of crescendos and rests, along with the contrasts of thrills and tranquility.
God is all these. He alone is unchanging, unique, rare, pure, unflawed, ordered, creative, passionate, restful, thrilling, and serene. We, likewise, are patterned to love the things our Creator is.
“Latent genetic patterning” is the terminology used in zoology to describe the imprinted preferences of an animal. For instance, a billy goat does not care about the display of a peacock’s tail. Ah, but a peahen really goes in for that sort of thing. She is patterned by God for attraction to iridescent feathers. You and I are patterned to love what our heavenly Father is. And that, quite simply, is what beautiful is. God is beauty.
Prayer: Father, I’m glad I’m created to love your beauty.