I enjoyed this chapter a lot. Technically I had heard before that the gospels were all written differently and to different audiences and such, but I had never understood what that really meant in such a comprehensive way.
I think the part that struck me as the most thought provoking, however, was toward the beginning of the chapter when Cosby talks about how Jesus wasn’t the Messiah that the Jews were expecting. They were expecting a warrior, an iron-fisted king coming in blazing splendor to rescue them. However, what they got was a simple carpenter’s son who healed people sometimes but mostly just talked with them. That idea was almost funny to me, in a way, because it’s something I see so often in my own life: God never shows up in the ways I expect him to.
It instantly reminded me of the passage in 1 Kings when the Lord appears to Elijah. There is wind, there is an earthquake, there is a fire – all mighty, awe-inspiring demonstrations of power – but that is not how the Lord chooses to reveal himself. Instead, he comes to Elijah as ‘a still, small voice’.
Two years ago, God and I were at a really rough patch in our relationship. I all but walked away from the whole stupid God thing because I was so frustrated with it all. I begged and begged God to reveal himself to me, to show me he was here, that he saw me, that he loved me, but he just wouldn’t. And I was outraged and devastated at his refusal. If I believed in a God who loved me more than I could ever imagine and who was powerful enough to do anything at all to show me that love, then when didn’t he? It took me a long time, but I think I figured it out. It’s because I didn’t understand how God operates. As I told my leadership team at the end of last semester, “I was looking for fireworks, but God was showing me himself in fireflies”.
It is true that God can and has done insane things to both express his love and his power, but that’s not usually the case. Usually he chooses to reveal himself in subtler ways. Ways that are often times missed because we’re expecting something more obvious. But honestly, in retrospect, I like it better this way.
If you ask my friends, I really don’t like aggression. If they want to express care and love for me, they shouldn’t do it in any sort of outrageous, aggressive ways. Because even if the wind and the earthquake and the fire are stunning, I much prefer the still, small voice. And when given the choice, I really do much prefer fireflies over fireworks.
Caroline's Encounters 