Following You isn’t that strenuous, as long as You don’t ask me to step out of the boat.
But You do.
(from A Heart Exposed by Steven James)
You are a God who sets my feet in broad places, then continues to extend the boundaries as You push me beyond human logic, tempting me to trust You with my mustard seed-sized faith.
Your conduct is baffling. Nonsensical even, as You make mud pies from saliva and serve up a slice of sight to blind eyes.
Your forthright approach taunts folks with tales of “sleeping” daughters You raise from the dead.
You instruct people to leave Your presence, daring them to believe for a healing to come “along the way.”
You command tombs to be opened and call forth dead men, reuniting family and friends.
You drive demons into pigs, setting crazed men free and whole.
Blind men wash in pools of water and receive their sight.
Proud lepers dunk in dirty rivers to have their skin made clean and soft.
You clear a temple with a whip, overturning tables and religious expectations as You invite children to sing the wonders of Your praises.
Former prostitutes and pagans support Your ministry.
Simple fishermen and scorned tax collectors are gathered to become the leaders of Your Church.
What is the point of these strange tactics?
Why must faith give birth alongside the stench of stable’s manure and mix with blood running down Calvary’s crossbeams?
Why are places like this the places where miracles are found?
Why can’t You take a safer route, a more practical approach to Christian living?
Why can’t You be content to let Your children simply enjoy the boat ride?
And why, oh why, do I struggle so against the wonders of Your ways?
With pharisaical heart, I ponder Your offer, then turn again toward the known and familiar, clinging futilely to religion without power.
And all the while, Your voice keeps calling me to step out of the boat . . .
But I prefer to let the waves rock me to sleep as I close my eyes and dream of miracles.