Reality moves.

Have you missed me? I know, I’ve been silent lately. It’s not that I have nothing to say; it’s just that I don’t want to say the wrong things. I’ve been in a funk and the cathartic nature of blogging likely would have brought out all the negative things I’d rather not post for the world to read. What’s that proverb? “Even a fool is thought wise if he keeps silent.” (Proverbs 17:28) Call me the fool.

What do you do when you’re in a funk? There are the typical devices: chocolate, coffee, mashed potatoes … okay, so I’m an emotional eater. I admit it. But there are others: shopping, a favorite TV show, a lazy novel that doesn’t require any thinking, the “right” music, a drive to nowhere, a day at the beach, a date and a night of unscheduled intimacy. Sometimes if we just break the mundane routine of life, we can fill up our enthusiasm tanks.

But sometimes those fuels aren’t what we need at all. It’s like sea water, a cruel joke to a stranded man. He’s surrounded by water, but if he drinks it, he’ll actually be in a worse state than the parched, cracked-lip man he is now.

Yes, a grande white chocolate mocha would seem divine right about now. But it’s not the fuel I need.

A “good” Christian would say “You need God! You haven’t spent enough time in the Word or in prayer, and that’s why you’re in this funk.” So I turn to my Bible and my God, consuming them the same as my chocolate, expecting the same fix.

But God is not a drug. He’ll not be used at my whim like a genie. Joy is not found through a prescribed combination of piety. Yes, spiritual discipline is important and, yes, Jesus is always the answer, but faith is not attained through a formula. Just because you see your boss every day doesn’t mean you have a relationship. I don’t want a ritual, I want intimacy. I know what’s true, but I want to feel it too. I want reality — God’s truth — to be tangible.

This weekend as I bit my tongue trying not to groan as my children gleefully climbed all over me, I looked up and saw this.

It doesn’t look like much; it’s just a tree. Lying on the ground, I stared at something I’ve seen billions of times, but now from a different perspective. I couldn’t believe how beautiful it was. Thousands and thousands of leaves against a bright blue sky. All of a sudden I didn’t feel so alone. God knows exactly how many of those green fingers wiggle in the breeze. Even after my son’s daily baseball bat attacks on the tender branches, He knows. He knows how many hairs are on my head, even as I’m pulling them out. He knows how much I adore these children, even when I’m more frustrated than grateful. He knows how much I want to serve Him, even when I put it off or don’t do it right.

A new perspective, a jolt to my consciousness, and suddenly reality moves from my head to my heart.