They say the thin places are where heaven and earth collide. If you’re paying attention, if your face isn’t buried in your phone, your hands, your worries, you’ll catch a glimpse of God at work on earth. I am 99 percent sure I miss most of them. I have a tendency to charge right through life then search for help when the pieces scatter across the floor. How could I have said that? Done that? Thought that? Gone through with that? Goodness gracious, why am I the way I am?
It is twelve days into January and I am still thinking about what I posted in the last week of December—to “pursue holiness a little more cheerfully.” Everyone talked about not making resolutions around being smaller or better or changing, but instead just *being,* and I like this. But I also can’t help but shake the idea that holiness takes pursuit. It takes action and activity and monitoring and change, and when did these become bad words? Are we to be? Or are we to become?
Here’s something you might not like to think about: Being led isn’t in your nature. You don’t like to ask and wait for an answer. You don’t want to bend your will to another’s. You don’t really like to pay attention to others’ wants and direction and will for your life. That’s why you set your own goals and didn’t let your friend do it.
The thin places. The brief, delicate collapsing of the mortal and immortal worlds.
What if this year, you didn’t bend your will to another mortal’s, but to the immortal God's? Would you let yourself be led? Would you, could you, become?
I pour another cup of coffee, my thick sock slides down my calf a little so I push it up with one foot. The Spirit is working and moving, giving life and answers and making things beautiful whether I am paying attention or not.
Perhaps we must be, in order to become.
Perhaps we are so focused on being, we forget about becoming.
You are building a life whether accidentally or intentionally. There is a shape and a form and a tone and a structure. What are you building?