Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. (Philippians 4:4)
In today’s
reading of The Diving Conspiracy, one of the things that Prof. Willard
points out is the availability of Jesus during His ministry on Earth. In fact,
that was one of the things that irritated people most about Him. He was often
so thronged with people that He and His disciples exhausted themselves. They had
to find out of the way places to go to rest. People tore roofs off houses to
get to Him and He didn’t object. He ministered to tax collectors, prostitutes, other
sinners, and non-Jews. He spoke to women – and Samaritan women at that! He healed
on the Sabbath.
People joke about
children and pets not being willing to let them go to the bathroom in peace.
But when Jesus was dying, He was accessible to a thief who was dying with Him, and
He made sure that His mother would be cared for. I mean, really!
But as I read about
Jesus being accessible, my instant reaction was negative. As an introvert, the
idea of being that accessible is a nightmare. I want to be in control of my
accessibility and by extension, I think, I project my own dislike of accessibility
onto Jesus. He couldn’t possibly want to be that accessible, and it would be
rude of me to take advantage of His accessibility. It’s hard to imagine Him
smiling at me as I walk up with my third request, complaint, or question in the
last two minutes.
But on the other
hand, I find it hard to imagine His being patient enough for me to spend days, or
even years to come to Him about something. I can imagine Him looking at His
watch and announcing that I’m two years, 35 days, and 14.5 hours late, or just
shaking His head without telling me how late I am. Sometimes, I can imagine Him
looking at what’s going on in the world and wondering how it is that I can’t
see that He has more important things to do than listen to me whine. That’s how
I feel about my situations, after all.
There’s the other
side of the coin, too. The Lord is near? Near? Now? I’m not ready. The house is
a mess. I need to find tiny screws and nuts to fasten my garden dividers
together with. And worst of all, my attitude isn’t at its best! Can I turn off
the lights and maybe He’ll come back when things aren’t quite so unready? Except, we both know that things will never be
ready.
At the same time,
it’s not as though I never speak to God about anything. I pray about lots of
things at random moments through the day but I think I picture it as an e-mail
or text – something sent off to God that He’ll get to when He has time.
It’s something I
need to work on. It’s a Battle Bible verse, reminding me that my projections
are wrong. He is near. He is accessible. I need to learn to be the same.
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