“Course He Isn’t Safe. But He’s Good.”

I don’t want your god of rainbows and butterflies, your god who dances in fields and makes daisy chains and takes you on picnics, or your god who always forgives, is never angry, is always gentle, and is always super positive. I don’t want your sheep, your bright ball of light, your grandfatherly figure, and your heavenly Santa Claus.

Sorry, lovely, the God of this universe is not a kindly, old, gray-haired, hippy grandfather. Yes, He romances us. Yes, He always, 100%-of-the-time, no-matter-what forgives us. Yes, He is gentle with us, even when He breaks us.

But please, please, don’t lose sight of the sword in the folds of his robe. Don’t lose sight of the fire in His eyes. Don’t forget that, when people see Him without protection, they die. Don’t forget that His angels cause warriors to fall to the ground and fear for their life. Don’t forget that this is the God who ripped His own heart out of His chest and put it on earth for us to trample on and abuse. Don’t forget that He has sacrificed everything and daily fights for us.

There are times in my life when I need the God who romances me, who paints sunsets and plants flowers, and who puts people in my life to say a gentle word, and He is always faithful to provide that. But mostly, if I’m really honest, I need the God who will stand over my curled up, incapacitated soul and fight away the darkness with His sword.

I need the God who pushes my boundaries. I need the God who chisels away painfully at my soul, working on me and convicting me to become more like Him. I need the God who is covered to His elbows in the blood of my enemies, who fights for me while I cower behind Him, who hands me a sword and pushes me into the fray when I don’t think I’m brave enough or strong enough.

I need the God who doesn’t cut me slack, who demands perfection, who is angry with a righteous anger when I walk away or hurt Him, who lets me face the consequences of my choices, and who is always waiting to take me back. I need the God who knows me better than I know myself. I need the God who molded my face with His fingers – the fingers that built up the mountains and leveled the plains and carved out the unfathomable, deep places for the oceans.

I need the God who is strong enough to carry me when I can’t walk on my own. I need the God who never tires, never sleeps, never fails, and never gives up on me. I need the God who is as desperate for me as I am for Him and will go to whatever lengths He must to win my heart and soul.

One of my most favorite quotes of all time is from The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. Susan is talking with Mr. Beaver about Aslan, and she says, “Is he – quite safe?” And Mr. Beaver replies, “Safe? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

The God I need, the God I serve, is not safe.

To be safe, He would have to be small enough to be understood. He would have to be something I could pull into tiny pieces and figure out. He would have to be small enough for me to wrap my head around. He would have to be predictable and quantifiable.

I could never worship Him, serve Him, give my life to Him, or follow Him if He were small enough to be safe.

So, please, throw away your safe God. Throw away the thing you’ve shrunk God into. Throw away your tiny, one-dimensional view of God. Throw away the PC, kind, loving, old man floating on a cloud in the sky. Remember that the Creator of the Universe and all its intricacies could never be small enough for you, the created, to truly grasp.

But always remember that He is good.

No matter how ferocious He is, no matter how angry He gets, no matter how powerful He is, no matter how strong He is, no matter how much control He has, no matter how much you run away, no matter how jealous He is for you, and no matter how much He longs for you, He will always be good. Always.

I rest in His hand, covered by the strength of His mighty right arm. I know that His unfathomable love for me is why He protects me. I know that He will always be there to bind up my wounds and carry me to safety.

Because I know the strength of my God, I know that there is nothing He cannot face, there is nothing He will shrink from, and there is nothing that can defeat Him. I know that, because He loves me as His own child, I am cherished with both the ferocity of a warrior and the gentleness of a father. I know that I am always cared for, always loved, and always safe when I rest in the palm of His hand.

I can rest knowing that I will always be protected. I have peace knowing that I will always be delivered. I have courage knowing that I will never fight alone. I have hope knowing that He will never stop fighting to make the world right again.

My Protector, my Father, my Savior, my Lord, and my God will never abandon me, never grow tired of me, never hurt me maliciously, and never forsake me. The Destroyer of my enemies is my Great Physician. The Pillar of Fire is my Calm Waters. I am never alone. I am never forsaken. I will never be abandoned. I am safe.

I’ll take that over your puny half-god any day.


Plans for the Future

I’m so exhausted in so many different ways.

Mostly, I’m dreadfully tired of school and studying and clinicals and having to wake up at a decent time every morning and being forced to function nicely and cheerfully before 10am.

I don’t like being stressed out. I don’t like getting grades. I don’t like getting up at 4am. I don’t like having to pay bills. I don’t like sitting down for 2-3 hours at a time. I don’t like being forced to wear shoes. I don’t like having to pile all of my extremely heavy hair on top of my head and getting headaches. I don’t like being tired. I don’t like studying. I don’t like not knowing things.

But I have a beautiful plan to make everything all better.

I’m going to drop out of school and become a warrior nun.

This will fix all of my problems. All of them.

Warrior nuns don’t go to school. Well, not like nursing school. They go to warrior nun school to learn how to be a warrior, but I’ve seen Batman, Equilibrium, Karate Kid, Kung Fu Panda, and Mulan, so I’m probably good there. I think I can just skip that part.

Warrior nuns don’t have to worry about men. After all, they’re nuns. Nuns aren’t allowed to get married. This means, men will never be an issue.

Warrior nuns get to do cool warrior things. They don’t do boring, tiring, awful nursing school things.

Warrior nuns have nunchucks. Need I say more about this?

Warrior nuns can have terrible hair days, and no one ever knows. I mean, really. Have you seen those things they wear on their heads? No one even knows if they have hair or not. If you’ve ever seen my hair on a bad day, you know, sometimes it’d be really nice to just slap on a wimple and go about my business. That would significntly reduce the number of screaming children and old women going, “Excuse me, but I think there’s some creature roosting in your hair.”

Warrior nuns have snack room. Those dresses they wear are kinda loose. That means they’d be perfect for hidden pockets full of snacks (like cookies). I think that sounds absolutely delightful.

Warrior nuns get plenty of sleep. Because who is going to want to wake up someone who could kill you with either their bare hands or a quick word up to God for some lightning? That would be dumb.

Warrior nuns don’t get stressed out. If something stresses them, they kill it. It’s simple, and I wish it was legal because I’d be destroying a whole lot of things right now.

Warrior nuns do whatever they want to. Who’s going to tell a murderous nun that they have to wear shoes or wake up at a certain time or take tests or anything? No one. That’s who.

Warrior nuns know everything. Have you ever heard of a warrior nun with a knowledge deficit? I didn’t think so. Have you ever even heard of a warrior nun? No? That doesn’t matter. I’m still right.

Warrior nuns don’t have to pay bills. They are, after all, nuns. No one makes nuns pay for things. That’s just mean. (I know there are some evil people in this world who make nuns pay for things, but that’s why there needs to be more warrior nuns – to get rid of those people.)

Warrior nuns have it made. That’s why I’m going to drop out of school and be one.

But I’m going to have to wait until next week because everyone knows you can only make a big life-change on a Monday.