As I mentioned to you here, one of the authors that I have been enjoying lately is Frederick Buechner. I thought this was particularly profound:
We try so hard as Christians. We think such long thoughts, manipulate such long words, and both listen to and preach such long sermons. Each one of us somewhere, somehow, has known, if only for a moment or so, something of what it is to feel the shattering love of God, and once that has happened, we can never rest easy again for trying somehow to set that love forth not only in words, myriads of words, but in our lives themselves. And when, as must always happen, we sometimes give up this trying either because for a moment it seems unreal or because we are tired or bored or because we forget or choose to forget, we cannot even enjoy our moment’s release for the sense of failure that chokes us. This is of course as it should be. Fruitless and destructive as so much of our trying must always be, and tormented as we are by knowing this and by beholding the shallowness and duplicity of our motives, we have scarcely any choice but to go on trying no matter what, and there is much that is beautiful and brave and true about it. Yet we must remember this other word too: “Unless you turn and become like children….”
Isn’t it a relief to find out that we all struggle with the same things? Clearly, it is in our wiring to flounder about aimlessly when we attempt to leave ourselves to our own devices. It is only in those moments that we flop down onto our knees and admit our total helplessness without Him that God can begin to work His awesome, transforming power in us. Why do I keep forgetting that?
