Uncle Luther's Porch

Where could I go to escape from you? Where could I get away from your presence?
If I went up to heaven, you would be there; if I lay down in the world of the dead, you would be there.
If I flew away beyond the east or lived in the farthest place in the west, you would be there to lead me, you would be there to help me.
I could ask the darkness to hide me or the light around me to turn into night, but even darkness is not dark for you, and the night is as bright as the day. Darkness and light are the same to you.
-Psalm 139:7-12

I’m not ashamed to admit it. I try to run from God.

I love God’s church, and I know I’m supposed to love the people of God, but too frequently, I find myself running from both— and in doing so, I run from Him. I run from reading my Bible. My growing Internet addiction and desire to be entertained by the flickering of my TV screen are simply more appealing to me.

I also run from prayer. I have a hard enough time trusting people, let alone trusting a God I can’t see. Praying, in my view, is a dangerous sport. If I ask for patience, I might just be given a situation that will build patience. If I ask to have a closer relationship with God, I figure God might just eliminate some human relationships in a painful and unpleasant way to get me there—or I might find myself with a rather unsavory illness that will make my relationship with God all the more important.

Yet— despite all of my attempts to escape— there stands a carpenter from Nazareth. Whatever road I run down, regardless of which direction I turn, that old Galilean beckons me. “Where are you going?” He says. He puts His hand on my shoulder and leads me back, “Come with me, and learn my love. Learn to put your Trust in Me.”

Despite my worries and my lack of faith. In spite of my struggles with whether or not God is really good, without regard to any of my doubts, Christ finds me and brings me back. I have nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, and that is a good thing, because the choices I make when I try to escape the grace of God are just bad for me. What I think is a good move or a wise choice—often causes me ten times more pain than if I stayed put and let God lead.