God doesn’t have my problems. He doesn’t forget his purpose, or struggle with life.
He has everything.
So why doesn’t he use some of that power to change things for me?
Love seems condescending…until I remember he was here, too.
But, unlike me, it was at his own choice.
He chose the pain of humanity, not as an experiment, but as a cost.
For some reason—the part I don’t quite understand—you and me are valuable to him.
Love seems so condescending, until it doesn’t.
Now it’s just strange.
It’s a dichotomy between all God’s power and authority and will, and his desire to make me better.
Some days I forget which are problems to solve and which are areas to mature into.
Love doesn’t seem so condescending, just overwhelming.