What can I do with you, Ephraim?
What can I do with you, Judah?
Your piety is like a morning cloud,
like the dew that early passes away.
T ruth is intrusive like water; it goes where it will and destroys what it wants. We may resist it for a while, building walls, weirs, and dams against it. But our roofs, ceilings, foundations, and basements must disintegrate against its relentless pressure, and it has more time than we do. When truth is put off for a while, its strength and vindictive force only increases. What the parents forestall is visited upon the children.
Lent calls us into silence where we must hear the voice of God and listen to his word. We hear God's dissatisfaction in Hosea's complaint, "What can I do with you?" It is the cry of One who has created persons in his own image and likeness, and then recognized his impotence over the freedom he gave them. Within its trinity of persons, God knows the joy of generous, obedient freedom.
And within that same triune community, God knows the cost of obedience and our human reluctance. We have seen all three -- the resistance, the cost, and the joy of God's obedience -- in the passion, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus. Our reluctance arouses this divine patience and God's courage as he still believes in the muddy image of himself.
Truth is intrusive and invasive, but it's also a person. We believe in a personal God who withholds his wrath while we dither.
Recently I was told the story of an autistic boy who was clearly fascinated by water. Taken to the pool, he walked around its edge endlessly as he watched other children play. His parents were familiar already with his reluctance. Too much stimulation sometimes aroused mortal terror which required long periods of quiet, silent rest. But after several trips to the pool, and seeing that the child wanted desperately to know what water is all about, his father threw him into the pool. And he's not wanted to get out of it since. He loves the water.
How long will the Father wait for us? Will he finally throw us into the ocean of his divine truth? And will we panic and perish, or delight in a surrender to all-consuming love?
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.