More about worms
Struggling in God’s hands.
A couple of weeks ago I wrote about a morning liturgy. When I’m walking and see a worm on the pavement, I catch it and throw it back into the grass. Have you tried picking a worm up off the pavement? It’s not easy. When they’re stretched out, clinging to their world, it’s hard to get a hold on them.
But if I just touch them first, they wriggle their way right into my hands.
This is a good metaphor for me and God. So long as I cling to my world, I’m difficult for God to grasp. He sees me headed for danger. He sees I’m going to dry out in the harsh sun. But, for the moment, I’m comfortable—oblivious to God’s care.
Then he touches me. Maybe with a sunset. Maybe with a sting. He has my attention and I wriggle into his hands. Safe.
Move to a place of safety. Now!
Our refuge is a Person.
Since Isaias came through, our Leland, NC neighbors have been dealing with tornado cleanup. Next to storm surge, the threat of tornadoes can be the scariest part of a hurricane. Our TVs and phones alert us repeatedly to find a place of safety. Now!
Where are your places of safety? When we were young children ― and if we were fortunate to have a healthy family ― our place of safety was a person. If we were frightened, we ran to Mom or Dad. But in our adult sophistication, we run to safe rooms and safe deposit boxes.
2020 has been a tornado. It would be good for us to remember that God is our refuge. In Christ, we are his kids and he is our perfect Father. Maybe this year we will rediscover that our real ‘place of safety’ is a Person, and not a place at all.
Morning Liturgy
Some lessons from a morning walk.
When I walk or run in the morning, I’m on the lookout for earthworms wriggling on paved surfaces. I catch them and move them to a grassy area. With this morning liturgy, I remind myself that:
God commissioned me to be a steward of his creation. Not a worshiper of it, but a good steward.
I cannot solve every problem—save every worm—but I can do what’s in front of me.
As a human, I enjoy privileges that a worm does not. I can use my privilege for a another creature’s—or another person’s—benefit.
This is something I can do when I walk or run, but not when I ride a bike or drive a car. When I move fast, I miss opportunities.
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