God is good. This we know. For the Bible tells us so. Right? It's true, of course, for those of us who believe and it will eventually be true even to those who don't.
But there is something so very heart-stopping when the generic becomes specific. When you see the goodness of the great God of the universe manifested to you personally without having to barter or beg or cajole. Not that it would work anyway, but the idea seems to always be there percolating in the back of our heads, doesn't it? Or maybe it's just me.
My reaction to these moments of divine reality on my behalf is to feel both flattery and disbelief. As if the cutest guy in the entire high school--the one every girl had a secret crush on--had just asked me to dance at our senior prom. The first impulse is to look over your shoulder and see whom he is actually asking.
But then you realize it really is you he is extending his hand toward, and suddenly you are Cinderella at the ball, dancing on a cloud as you are swept up into the rhythmeic movements of another more confident and experienced dancer. That's what today was like. Thank you, Jesus. Let's dance again soon.
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