At times I am overcome with gratitude for the range and depth of God’s love and provision. At other times, and usually without much separation, I am overcome with the dramatic inconvenience of an obstacle in front of me that HAS to move…for me to live or be happy. What a strange creature I am…being this thing called human. The conflict of this range of experience internally makes me want to grab for a middle ground, for the middle bottom of the pendulum’s swing, some disposition that will avoid what feels often like cheap inconsistency within my spirit.
But what appeals to this desire for freedom from such a thing as inconsistency? What voice values that? Who equated consistency as a hallmark of independence? Is it not true that to be fully human IS to be fully dependent.
