Its sunny out there, but it’s blowing a gale. It’s good, but nowhere near perfect. Curiously, that’s the weather from which I know I can extract the best. It’s pretty good, and pretty good seems to be what I’m best built for.
Days like Sunday are a different matter. Sunday was stupendous – sensational. Sunny, warm and perfectly still. Outdoors it smelt different, and sounded different. It certainly felt different. It was as if nature was gently being roused out of sleep. The call of the frogs seemed to reply to the sunshine, as it does on other days when it’s as if they croak louder after a cloud passes. The sunshine on the grass released all sorts of long-captured aromatics. The air was almost thick with them.
But there’s something slightly distressing on such a day. It’s as if my receptors can’t cope, and shut down beyond a certain point of perfection. It’s like a microphone that starts to distort above a certain volume, or like my house-guttering that overflows during a torrential downpour. It’s as if I can’t hold onto it – that there’s more beauty than I’m capable of receiving, and that the excess is being wasted.
I reckon that’s how we are with the blessings that God lavishes on us. We can cope, up to a point. And some of us are better at extracting low to moderate levels of blessing out of imperfect situations. But when it’s full-on – when it’s a raging torrent of his blessing – when he’s just showering it down on you – the receptors can go into meltdown, or at least just receive a maximum input and aren’t even aware of what’s inaccessible, and being wasted.
Lord, I want to stretch these muscles, work up the capacity of the receptors, and increase this appetite so I’m always ready to receive the full abundance that you died to provide..
11 September 7:41am