Perhaps I'm writing so much about my past lately because of the hours I'm spending digging through it.
All the sorting of drawers and cupboards of my past seasons in preparation for a new one. I don't know.
But there I was at 17 in the mainline church denomination I'd grown up in, the one which taught it's a million to one chance that God will supernaturally heal anyone today. And good luck if you ever see a miracle because they all died out after Acts chapter 2. And yet I believed, all along, that God still healed people, still answered prayer and nothing was too hard for Him.
That He could do anything He wanted.
And there I was in my 20's (in a different church) believing that the biblical gifts of the Spirit are still very much given and in use today. That God can speak through the gift of prophecy and knowledge, wisdom and mercy and well, all the rest. And watched Him do that and participated, also.
And there I was in my 30's believing that God is not like a boring church service. Nor does He resemble dull sermons, songs which never change, routines which never vary, unteachable people or a yawning, sad, defeated Sunday School teacher.
Always, God is more.
More creative, more inspiring, more incredible. More than our imaginations can fathom and always more than we will allow Him to be.
And here I am in my 40's still unafraid of the supernatural parts of God, knowing that if there's nothing supernatural about God, well then, we are all sunk. And I'm grateful that I didn't have to wait until strolling around Heaven's streets to see that supernatural side of a God who will not be stuffed inside a box.
And may I never be seen on some street corner trying to shove Him inside a boring, safe box. May I never grieve Him that way.
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