“Every starry night, that was His design”
I read a story this morning of a young woman at a college who ran for student office as the “diversity officer.” She is a white transgender girl who identifies as a man. Because of this they consider her as a white man running for office and have blackballed him because it would perpetuate the offensive white male control of the nation.
This is what open and unadulterated tolerance brings us, ladies and gentlemen: an Animal Farm-esque battle where you have to focus so hard on appearing universal that you are forced to create exclusivity and bias. The crown goes to the ever-smaller minority group.
There is an analogy to this in humanity: a child smashing a glass into the floor to find out if there will be ramification, a teenager sneaking dad’s beer to find out if that’s where the line is. That is where we are: we are pushing, trying desperately to find structure, limits, and discipline. We are calling out for a parental influence to show us what’s best.
That cry, that acting out… that is where I derive my hope for the future because that thrashing is our need for God, our desperate cry to Him to calm and reset us, to take possession of us.
I have a lot I need to say on this subject, but let me attempt to sum it as best I can: society is not worse or more depraved than it has been in past millenia, but the brokenness is more visible now. The more we see each other acting out the more we act out and the snowball picks up speed down the hill to Hell.
Because that is what Satan did, that is who he is to us: the one who convinced us to question our Father, who cast a stone into the still waters of our relationship with God and sent ripples through history that have become the tidal forces of passion for Christ and passion against Christianity today.
He didn’t take our innocence or our purity, he convinced us to yield our fealty. He struck the single most sensitive chord that can be struck in a couple’s relationship: he asked if God was really being forthright, and thereby stole away our recognition of God’s authority.
Maybe you’ve read my post about the vision of Satan as the lion dancing on the stage, desperate to steal our attention from God. We give him that attention, and we do it not because we like what we see but because we’re desperately searching him for some sign of whether or not his question was valid. We search to see if he knows something we don’t that justifies thousands of years of mistrust of God.
The answer to human misery is so simple and so terribly difficult. I could talk about it for hours, write about it for years. It could be that it’s my purpose to do so. As author and orchestrator of this universe — not passive watchmaker, but active painter of every single starry night and every singing bird — He needs us to acknowledge this answer. It’s three small words which have oceans of implication: trust God first.
Father, I don’t know how to express these ideas, these visions You’ve crammed into my tiny brain. I don’t know how to put my toys down and pick up Your work. But I know that You know, and that’s all I need. I will trust You first, above and before all else. I Love You. Amen.
In His Arms 