I saw it the other day. I saw that thing I want, that thing I am sure I need,
that thing that holds the key to my happiness. With it I will be complete.
Without it I will always be lacking.
And there it was, right before me. I saw it. I longed for it. I felt that
longing, that desire, in my chest, or was it my stomach? Did my heart really
skip a beat? There it was, so close, but it wasn’t mine. It was there, yet just
out of reach.
In that very moment the thought flashed through my mind: If God really loved
me, he would give it to me. God doesn’t love me enough to let me have it. And in
the wake of the thought, a question: What can I do to make him love me enough?
What can I do to make him love me enough to give it to me?
The insanity lasted all of a minute. Probably not even a minute. And then I
knew. It’s not that God loves me too little to give it to
me. He loves me too much. He loves me too much to give me that thing I am
convinced I need. He loves me too much to give me something that will compete
with him. He loves me too much to give me anything I may love more than I
love him.
Whatever it is—an object, a person, a position, a recognition, an award—God
expresses his love in withholding it from me. He knows me far better than I know
myself. He knows what I need, and he knows what I don’t need. He knows what
would soon step into that place he reserves for himself.
I can go my way content. I can go my way knowing that God has given all I
need and withheld all I cannot handle. I am content with what God has given—it
is for my good and his glory. I am content with what God has withheld—it, too,
is for my good and his glory.
- Reforming the Reformed
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