I’ve been a little frustrated with Father lately so the other night I let him have it. There’s one thing I have little tolerance for, it’s pretending everything is OK with me and God. Mind you these things are complicated. Part of being free in my relationship with him is being honest about these complications. On one hand I know he loves me; I know I have a strong relationship with him; I know his blessings in my life; I also know that I develop expectations of him like I do with my friends, and when those expectations crash, yeah I go Martha on him. I clearly don’t blame Martha for being just slightly, uh no, really miffed at Jesus for taking his sweet time showing up when he did.
Religion is the sickness and death is its cure. I’m noticing now that when I start forming my own religion i.e. laying my own expectations on Jesus. I start getting sick in my heart. My desires or expectations of him eventually die. Not quietly or peacefully, but kicking and screaming: “Where are you God?” Death and resurrection. I get it, but I’m still not used to it. Resurrection is not an adjustment in perspective, but a whole new life. Seeing Father’s love like never before.