Glory and Guts

With what should I approach the Lord
        and bow down before God on high?
Should I come before him with entirely burned offerings,
        with year-old calves?

7 Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams,
        with many torrents of oil?
Should I give my oldest child for my crime;
        the fruit of my body for the sin of my spirit?

8 He has told you, human one, what is good and
        what the Lord requires from you:
            to do justice, embrace faithful love, and walk humbly with your God.

~ Micah 6:5-8 CEB

 

 

That night at Laity Lodge a group of us huddled in the parking lot hoping for a miraculous sign. Like a shooting star.  We got not one, but several.  Oh happy day!  We appropriately celebrated, counting our lucky stars and even remembering to thank God for his glorious works.  So yes, there is glory to be had.

 

But then Pete and I returned to our ultra-modern, super comfy, fancy digs and I complained about a particular person who got on my ever-loving last nerve. Woe is me.

 

The glow of glory fades so fast.  Maybe it’s just me, but if I am sustained only because by signs and wonders, I’m not going to persevere in my faith. I’m going to burnout much like those shooting stars.  For onlookers, a shooting star is tantamount to a miraculous sighting, especially for folks who live in suburbia and rarely see more than a small sample of what the skies hold each night.  From the star’s perspective, it represents its last hurrah – rapidly moving through the sky as it enters the earth’s atmosphere, burning up as it displays its glorious plumage of wreckage while we mere mortals clap and cheer.

 

Thanks be to God that he demonstrates himself not only in the glory but in the guts of simply taking the next right step.  I step out of my car, head toward the voting booths and freeze as I witness the shouting match.  I watch the five little guys display various responses to their fathers’ bad behaving.  Mostly they look scared but a couple are nervously giggling.  In a split second I wonder if they are embarrassed or if this will turn into a tall tale about how my dad can beat up your dad. And I think that for times such as this, we all need adult supervision.