I was almost asleep when I was startled by a galloping sound. "Are there horses in our neighborhood?" I wondered. I was still getting used to the new sounds that come along with a move. And then, there it was again. It came out of nowhere and was gone in a flash. It didn't take me too long to realize that no, we did not have a band of Mustangs running past our home in the middle of Columbia, SC, but rather it was Dash, our huge Chow/Shepherd puppy. Dash is now four years old, and he still runs from one side of the house to the other at full speed. He usually does this when he is "guarding" the house or really excited to see someone familiar walking toward the house. This practice has left a perfect arch in our grass that now connects one side of the house to the other.
This is the picture that popped into my mind when I studied the word "way." My understanding of way is a road, a direction or a conduct that has been tread on, marched on and even trampled underfoot. This way is a familiar road, one you could walk in the dark, one where there is no grass left. This road is so familiar that sometimes you don't even realize you are walking on it. (Have you ever pulled into your driveway after work, and you wonder how you got home? Yes, I am guilty of mindless tired driving, too.)
In his cry to God, David wants to know if there is anything in him that is so familiar to him, that maybe he can't even see it anymore, even though it is offensive or hurtful.
But this is what punched me in the stomach, the Hebrew word that is translated here as "offensive," can also be translated as "idol."
Can I, like David, ask God to look and see if there is anything inside of me that is so familiar to me in my way of thinking and doing that I don't recognize it to be an idol; a god I made for myself?
Isn't this what Lent is for?
Sure, people start doing or stop doing things they shouldn't or should be doing, but what's the point if there is no long term change? As I learn more about the season of Lent, I find that it is more about internal exposure as apposed to external behavior. Lent is not for the faint-hearted. Lent is a time to say, "Check me out, God, and open my eyes so I can see how you see."
I think I may need to let that marinate for a while.
This is the picture that popped into my mind when I studied the word "way." My understanding of way is a road, a direction or a conduct that has been tread on, marched on and even trampled underfoot. This way is a familiar road, one you could walk in the dark, one where there is no grass left. This road is so familiar that sometimes you don't even realize you are walking on it. (Have you ever pulled into your driveway after work, and you wonder how you got home? Yes, I am guilty of mindless tired driving, too.)
In his cry to God, David wants to know if there is anything in him that is so familiar to him, that maybe he can't even see it anymore, even though it is offensive or hurtful.
But this is what punched me in the stomach, the Hebrew word that is translated here as "offensive," can also be translated as "idol."
Can I, like David, ask God to look and see if there is anything inside of me that is so familiar to me in my way of thinking and doing that I don't recognize it to be an idol; a god I made for myself?
Isn't this what Lent is for?
Sure, people start doing or stop doing things they shouldn't or should be doing, but what's the point if there is no long term change? As I learn more about the season of Lent, I find that it is more about internal exposure as apposed to external behavior. Lent is not for the faint-hearted. Lent is a time to say, "Check me out, God, and open my eyes so I can see how you see."
I think I may need to let that marinate for a while.
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