Not long ago I came home from my first half of a split shift, tired from the little sleep my job provides, knowing that I had to be back in 4 hours. Usually I try not to sleep in between shifts, but on this day in particular that is all I wanted to do. I needed rest. Solace. Peace.
I climbed into my small, puffy bed and pulled the covers up over me. This is where I talk to Jesus. I used to feel guilty that I didn’t talk to Him on my knees, hands nicely folded and eyes closed. I felt guilty for being so comfortable. But let’s be real – in my bed, briefly hidden from the world by piles of blankets and the quiet of the night – this is where the work gets done. This is where God meets me. And on the days when I most need comfort He comes in the form of a giant, majestic, beautiful bird.
I closed my eyes and the bird met me. I was walking through a hot desert, thirsty and tired. I looked up to see the bird in the air, preparing to land. He lands beside me and fluffs his feathers. Then he gently lifts one wing and invites me to stand in the shade beneath it. I find my shelter there, and he scoops me up. His feathers are soft and the shade is cool. I am protected from the hot, arid openness that surrounds us. I can rest there.
As I was imagining this that day, an ugly, sinister voice tried to disturb my rest. It was the voice of myself. It said, “Don’t be ridiculous Kaitlyn, God’ s not a giant bird.” Then, almost immediately, another voice spoke and drowned me out. “I CAN BE ALL THINGS.”
All too often I put God in a box. I don't like this. All too often I let other peoples’ view of God influence mine. I compare my personal relationship with God to the appearance of others. I figure it’s like trying on someone else’s pair of shoes. While an old worn-in pair of shoes might be the most comfortable things in the world to someone else, I can try them on and they could be too big or too small. I can try to squeeze into them until it hurts, or I could trip and shuffle and stumble around trying to keep them on my heels.
They are not my pair of shoes.
My relationship with God is not her relationship with God. It’s not that old man’s relationship with God. It’s not that little girl’s relationship with God.
God is always the same. But he relates he relates to all of us differently.
That's what makes him such an intimate, loving God.
I still yearn to fully grasp.