in love with the .357 to my head

author's note: no, steve's holiday madness, interactions with the female species, and psychotic career choices have not driven him over the edge...yet.

sometimes, considering God will make your head explode.

seriously.

or, at least, people tell me it will (although doing a google search for exploding heads due to comprehending the glory of God won't get you far). lately, i've been in that state where God is there leading you, but He's leading you blindfolded, and you have no idea where you're going except that God is leading you. some people would say some pithy church cliche like "that's the best place to be" or something, but some people also enjoy root canals. you always have to wonder about some people. anyway, i've been contemplating God at the non-head exploding level, and i'm honestly freaked out by what i think - though truth be told, it hasn't changed me much yet ('what i want to do, i don't do'...sound familiar? thanks, paul).

christianity is a strange religion. no, more than strange - insane. we'd be normal if we bowed down to the memory of a prophet 7 times daily, or if we believed that our god was once like us, or if we believed that god was the earth, or a universal conciousness, or even some otherworldly force with jedi and stuff (you think i'm kidding? 'jedi' is an option on US navy dogtags). no, we're really crazy. because when you boil christianity down to it's deepest parts, we are a people who are supposed to be in a relationship with an omnipotent infinity who is at first glance schitzophrenic - both radically pursuing His image in us and devestatingly punishing our sinful natures.

in other words, we are in love with the .357 to our heads.

hmm...does anyone else see a problem with this? we are called to put our unyeilding trust in a being we can't understand. c.s. lewis once had the gonads enough to levy the question: what if God ISN'T good? scary thought.

honestly, i'm not sure why i pose this possibility. i mean, a God who has broken me numerous times, who has allowed horrible tragedy, who has had the audacity to be silent when i've needed Him most, and yet who has also healed me and others countless times, who has given peace and understanding on levels impossible to grasp, and who has perhaps been the only sane element of an otherwise pointless existence could be called sadistic...but on the other hand, He could also be called perfect. somewhere between the .357 and my head is a space that can only be called infinite grace, eternal love, a tension that causes all of heaven and earth to hold it's collective breath. it's like all that is beautiful and lovely and fantastic exists in that centimeter between metal and skin. our God boiled Himself down to an inch.

my head hurts.