Snow is pretty magical. It’s so pretty and sparkly and it completely changed to atmosphere when you wake up to a bunch of snow on the ground. I was telling someone recently that I like the concept of snow; however, I’m not the biggest fan of the practicality of snow. Like, it’s pretty to look at. From inside. Under a blanket. But up close? No can do.
I wonder if we sometimes treat God like this. Lovely from a distance. A wonderful idea. Something we want vaguely around. But to bring Him close? That’s another story. That requires getting cold and wet shoveling off the drive, to continue the metaphor. It requires more work and sacrifice and time.
As I attempted to drive Stoney Trail for the second time in my life last week (unintentionally, I might add…I thought I was going straight to Okotoks) and my life began to flash before my eyes, I, out of habit, prayed. But then halfway through a sentence, I realized that while yes, it’s good that that’s my first instinct, I certainly don’t do that in all occasions of my life. When life is fine and I’m not trying to merge into the (wrong) lane because Google Maps hates me, I maybe don’t feel the need to pray quite as much. So I don’t.
This gets it so wrong on a number of levels. I don’t know what to do about it though. If driving on five-lane highways is the only thing that gets me to pray, I might have some issues, because spoiler alert: I dislike any more than three lanes of traffic.
I don’t want to treat God like that. Like he’s my like-it-from-a-distance, only-when-I’m-stressed problem solver.
I’m sure quite how to change this problem, but I imagine recognizing the issue is step 1, and steps 2 – 413 come as I need them. So I’ll continue on, one step at a time.
