Shall I Rouse Myself up to This?

Mostly, I just want to feel good. Shallow, but true. Shortly before I started this blog, a friend told me about her experience of God like a comforting Father. I painted a mental picture of myself as a little girl laughingly bouncing on God's big strong knee and falling back into a huge, life-giving embrace. Contentment. I like that picture, and I began this blog partly in pursuit of it. Here's the catch: relationships, this side of heaven anyway, do not always feel good. Yesterday, I sensed this blog taking a new direction for me. I felt like God and I were in a relationship, but it didn't feel good.

I was in a bad mood after work and just wanted to veg in front of the TV with my girls, who were already watching Gilmore Girls, a bewitching show for me. In half an hour, I can begin to believe that the perfect body, the perfect outfit and the perfect man are the answers to life's most pertinent questions. After one episode, the futon enveloped me, the remotest desire to accomplish the smallest task disappeared. All I wanted, all I needed, were some stale nacho chips and the inside scoop on Lorelai's latest love interest. Somehow, I managed to drag myself away for a walk, and (minus the audible voice) God talked to me. At least, I think he did. I think he told me to stop watching Gilmore Girls. Maybe it was just me and guilt, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say it was God. I know it sounds silly, but right at that moment, not watching Gilmore Girls seemed like a huge sacrifice. My girls were already watching it. I was sure the futon would welcome me back. I did not want to face my bad day or my dirty house. I did not want to open a book or use my brain. I wanted to be a Gilmore Girl.

Then, this morning, before I even got out of bed, I told my husband a piece of the bad news from the day before, and get this, he did not sympathize. He told me I was wrong in something I said, something I did. I did not want to hear that. I already had a headache, tense shoulders, and a poor night's sleep behind me. He said that was because I knew deep down that I was wrong. And the really crummy thing is, I think it was God again -- talking to me through my husband. This is not the relationship I was looking for.

The good news is that God went easy on me in this early exchange. I'm committed to not watching the Gilmore Girls through the remainder of Lent, and I apologized to my boss -- the person I wronged. He was gracious and forgiving. Plus, I came home from work tonight to a clean house and dinner for my book group meeting all planned and prepped. All I have to do is follow the hand-written instructions -- warm the plates in the oven, sprinkle this, toss that. Just when I wanted to quit, I am the recipient of grace, about which my sister-in-law sent me a beautiful email note (also today). She wrote, "All of Jesus' disciples failed him in some way, and Jesus looked them straight in the eye and kept loving them. We are not saved by our sacrifices, but by His."

Amen.

P.S. And at this particular moment, I feel good.