The Danger of Inviting God In

Last night, my youngest daughter and I read together from a book, and it occurs to me that she’s actually reading.  She’s actually reading words.

She’ll never be the same.  Once you learn to read, you can’t undo it.  You see a word, and you must read it.  You can’t refuse.  The effects of learning to read are irreversible.

And involuntary.  Try it.  Look at a word and try not to read it.  You just can’t help yourself.  You’ve cracked a code; you’ve escaped from a labyrinth and nothing will ever look the same.

It reminds me of a life of faith.  The Teacher shows you how to crack the code; you’re out of the maze. 

A life of faith irreversibly alters the way a mind sees the world.  It shimmers with the radiance of God’s glory, and you interpret everything through the lexicon of God’s love, goodness, and power.  At first, like for a young reader, the process is slow and basic.  You recognize God in obvious ways, perhaps recounting answers to prayer, emotions felt in worship, or wisdom gained through Bible reading.  But then, you find you’re really reading.  You can’t help it.  You read God in the tiniest moment and see into the life of things.

You’ll discern the truth about this world.  Your heart will break, and you’ll want to hug strangers in grocery stores. You’ll start worshiping God when you see an acorn, a seashell, or a cat’s missing eye.  You’ll see a spiritual narrative behind even the garbage in the parking lot.  You’ll write a blog every single day because you can’t contain the worship and keep it all to yourself.

You’ll want to proclaim things. 

That’s the danger of inviting God in.  You will learn to read, and you won’t be able to undo it.

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  1. Lovely, lovely post. I simply must clarify the difference between a labyrinth and a maze. A maze is a puzzle which has no focus but to get you lost. A labyrinth is a deliberately winding path leading toward a Center and out again – time to pray going in, to sit and praise, then time to offer thanks going out. I love labyrinths :).

  5. “Seeing a spiritual narrative in an acorn” that's where I'm at, NOT that I have “arrived” as Paul says. I wish I could share some of the narratives with my dear husband though. I find myself trying to be his Holy Spirit-frustrating for both of us. Oh, for discernment to know what to share! blessings on your day, Heather.

  6. I like this idea that learning to see God around us is the same as learning to read. Once we open up to it, we can't stop finding him in the craziest places–a good bite of lox, a good laugh with kids, a tense game of chess, a good zombie story…

  7. This is so true. I'm just coming out of an unexplained dark season and now God's truth and love seem so palpable. I want to just overflow with words.

  9. I think that's why atheists are so ANGRY. They cannot even fathom a deity because it means that entire world would crumble.

    But once you enter into, you begin to see thing with clarity. For me, life is a constant “AHA”