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How many times have I uttered that prayer? Don’t tell me. I’m embarrassed to know the total.
I hope I’m not alone in this desperate and repetitive plea. Wouldn’t it be nice for the sign to literally appear? Even just once? I’m talking about walking down the street, asking God for a sign and tripping over a large rectangular piece of metal that has suddenly begun to squeeze upward from the ground I’m walking on. As I turn to see what I tripped over, I’m paralyzed watching God bring my sign to tangible life, rising…
above my head to the height of the nearby McDonald’s arches. No, a little bit higher than the arches until there’s no mistaking my sign for what it is: the literal sign I had begged for with written assurance of the presence of God, of the promise Christ brought, that the hope that was there from the beginning remains.
That would be nice. Signs for everyone everywhere. We would never be confused or wonder or fear we were alone. We would have hundreds of thousands of giant metal reminders.
And then today I read this: “For the Jews require a sign, and the Greeks seek after wisdom: But we preach Christ crucified…” (I Cor. 22-23). Paul can be so annoying.
I kept reading and decided one point he’s conveying is that if I spend my days waiting for signs that spring forth from the earth, I will miss the reality and beauty that He is actually already here in all things because of Christ, because of the Holy Spirit. Omnipresence does not necessitate skywriting. Though skywriting would also be very convenient…
Watching one full season of The Bachelor and baking chocolate chip cookies at least once…29 December 2010