Look at these treasures! I love them!

My son lost himself in the quest, not noticing how much time was slipping away as the sun lowered on the horizon. 

While others were busy swimming or laying on the dock, enjoying the goodness of July temperatures in the north, he was looking not up, but down. My son's eyes were scanning the bottom of the lake, searching for the perfect rocks to add to his collection. 

When he asked me to help, I instictively asked why he wasn't collecting shells instead. "Look at this one," I observed, "It has such a lovely swirl and beautiful coloring." He looked up for a moment, uninterested but respectful, and told me we were looking for rocks. 

"Look at this one!" He yelled, as he lifted a stone the size of his fist from the bottom. It was gray, and rough, nothing spectacular in my opinion.  

"Wow," I responded, only half-looking at the ordinary piece of rubble he was turning over in his fingers. 

"Isn't it great!" He exclaimed, with his typical enthusiasm, "It's perfect for my collection!" 

As I kept scouring the bottom for one rock I deemed worthy of the word, "beautiful," he continued to pick up stone after stone, declaring them perfect. 

I stuck with him for a few more minutes of searching, finding two rocks I thought were cool. He kept at it much longer, delighting in the process as much as the outcome. 

At the end of the day, he marched his bag of run-of-the-mill stones through the house, declaring them to be a treasure he loved as much as Cam Bear, his most beloved stuffed animal.

These rocks were valuable to him because he declared them to be so. He loved them becasue in his search for them, and in their very existence, they brought him delight. He saw them their similarities and distinctions, their smooth spots and sharp edges, their lightness and their weight, without overly dwelling on any one aspect.

In his innocence, he adored the for being exactly the way they were, and declared them to be his treasures.

Oh, how much children have to teach us.

-----

image.jpg

"He set me down in a safe place; He saved me to His delight; He took joy in me." - Psalm 18:19 (The Voice)

God delights in you. God delights in me. God delights in us.

God does not love us with an obligatory and dry, "I guess I should love them because they are my family" kind of love. God does not love us with a conditional, "I guess I should love them because they are beautiful and special and hardworking" kind of love.

No. 

God loves us with delight. He takes joy in our very existence.  

He shouts about us to the cosmos with the innocent glee of a small child, "Look at these treasures! I love them!" 

Could it be?

could it be?

Could it be that God still speaks from time to time?

Could it be that though the Divine can seem silent when the world screams with pain, perhaps there is more going on than we can hear?

Could it be that an infinite God, a fractured world, and a breathtaking people blend into confusing patterns of Presence and Absence? Could it be that this is part of the wonder of living as a human being?

Could it be that it wasn't just my voice I heard in my head as I walked along in prayer? Could it have been the actual voice of an actual God, telling me I was not alone? Could it be that if I suspend my disbelief for just a little while, I might laugh with the joy of delight?

Could it be that I do not have to understand God's engagement with the world in order to experience God's care for me? Could it be that God's presence can be ridiculously obvious when I am aware enough to notice?

Could it be that Jesus is asking me, "What do you want me to do for you?" just as He asked blind Bartimaeus? Could it be that God wants me to know the answer to that question so I can hear the invitation in it to live more fully? Could it be that this is what God's calling on our lives is really all about?

Could it be that God still speaks from time to time?

Could it be that the answer is yes for me?

Could it be that the answer is yes for you?