God of our Messiness
We are sometimes seduced by the thinking that God is especially present and vigorously active when our life is all cruisy and sweet. Surely we see Him at work in next week's Tattslotto numbers, when a gorgeous person falls in love with us. When the stars align, it must mean that there is a God and He is actively looking after us.
It's a little harder to glimpse Him when things go awry. When there is that sudden and unexpected death, when there is a serious falling out with someone you care about and when you tragically, finally must go to the vet with a pet who cannot be made better.
The God I know is just as present, active and energetic when He is stirring the messy, bubbling cauldron of our lives. He is just as comfy with our weeping and whimpering as he is with our laughter and giggling.
The faith I profess and try to live up to must embrace every gamut and every atom of who we are. Nothing can be separate from or held aloof by God. Rather, he takes our messiness into himself, subsumes it and makes it holy.
We glimpsed this in the muck of the manger at Christmass. We will see it vividly on Good Friday. God is right there when we witness the very worst that a Human being can do to another. I see the God of our messiness frequently at funerals where people tenderly, but magnificently, rise to support and nurture one another in ways that surprise even themselves.
So next time I am up to and in over my neck, in an icky mess, probably of my own making, I will remember that I have a companion in the cesspit of alligators with me. The God of my messiness.