It has come to my attention this summer how much I love to be adored and how absolutely terribly it feels to not be adored. There are people we care about and adore that simply do not adore us in return. And I started trying to make myself feel better about this by writing a whole letter to myself from those that do not adore me explaining how they were incapable of doing so because of their lack of familiarity or appreciation for the kinds of things I give my life to. And it was a wonderful exercise only BECAUSE I immediately saw the parallel, scrapped the letter, and wrote my own to God. Here it is.
God, I sometimes do not adore you, because I am incapable of recognizing how worthwhile you are. I don’t seek you enough to discover your overwhelming glory. I am unmoved by the blemishes in my soul and so I am unmoved and unimpressed by you sacrificing your only Son to wipe them clean. Holiness is foreign to me, so I can’t understand what a positive trait that is in you. I have never experienced being rejected by my own creation, the the outstanding character have in daily pursuing that creation in love is lost on me. The beautiful way in which you freely give mercy requires a sacrifice that I am too proud to incorporate into my own life. After removing these, your most valuable and beautiful traits, from the evaluation process, I in my foolishness see only other nice but bland traits: you are intelligent, creative kind. But, only because they are made in your likeness, many mere mortals share these traits, which is why you yourself are not even satisfied with these alone. So why would I want someone with these remaining non-comprehensive traits of yours who also pushes me to uncomfortably grow better, when I could cowardly have them in someone who doesn’t challenge me at all? Can I judge as priceless something I know nothing about? You can only be loved by me to the extent to which you are known by me. So teach me, especially in Rwanda, teach me to know. Open all of our eyes to your glory, that we might finally adore you.