The Ways of Love 2.0

Love is crazy.

I don't mean "I love this hotdog" crazy or "I love this song" crazy. I mean "I'll give up my rights to myself" crazy


I mean LOVE. Love, is crazy. God has defined love, real love, for us in the Bible and it's absolutely crazy.

We don't often think about it because we're desensitized to the very word. We love long walks on the beach, we love Penne Rustica at our favorite Italian bistro, we love our cats, dogs, goldfish, Wii and PlayStation games, and we love a good B.M. I'm certain that most of you were on board until that last one, and then you respectfully jumped ship to escape the imagery. "That's a little gross," you think. It's uncomfortable because I mentioned human waste in a post about love, and you can't make the same connection I did. Well, here it is, spelled out: we use 'love' like we use our personal refuse. It's momentary, it serves its purpose and it's gone. "I used to love cats, but then one scratched me and I don't anymore." Love like that really isn't worth having is it? Much less worth talking about.

That's why it's not love. We call it love, because the word is convenient and available, but it's not. We talk about our preferences and joys and hopes with a term like 'love' until the common (colloquial, for my college peeps out there) understanding of love is more, to us, the definition than what love really is. The result is my hearing women or young girls say there's no such thing as love because they've been hurt or abandoned or neglected by the ones claiming to love them; guys saying love is the word to use to get what you what; me saying I'd love to be given 10 minutes alone in a room with those guys and a green light from God. But even more difficult is when the very reality of love is called into question because of its many abuses throughout the years and in our personal relationships.

But can we do that? Can a definition for love be determined by consensus usage, or hopeful wishing on stars, or even reliance on human compassion, grace, and forgiveness? Can we redefine love to suit our purposes?

The simple answer is yes. Logically, we can do whatever we want to and get whoever we want to follow us if they want to follow us. But if we want to walk that road, doesn't such a course of action leave us somehow, well... wanting?

The complex answer is no. We can't redefine love to fit us personally because we are all, personally, different. Love cannot be defined as one thing to one person and be something totally different to another - not in essence. That's not necessarily love. It could be, but it isn't love because it's your personal understanding of what 'love' is. So love can be shown in different ways but it cannot be fundamentally understood differently.

God tells us that love means sacrifice. Personal, emotional, egotistical sacrifice. Love sacrifices personally for the objects of love. Emotionally, love suppresses any number of personal hang-ups to the benefit of others, and many times at the expense of the self. Love does not assert some egotistical right or self-serving plan for dominance.

Love is described throughout scripture as God's affection for His people - and in the New Testament as actually God. God set apart the people of Israel as a platform to make His name great among the nations, to exalt, to lift up, His great name. Why? So the other nations would come to the only true God and see how great was His love to those who follow Him. So God could lavishly bless these people - yes, Israelites and 'foreigners' alike - and receive glory and honor for His great provision. Why did God set apart Israel to be His chosen people? So this inconsequential, weak-minded, unfaithful nation - if one could call such a small people a 'nation' - would show, even in their failures, that God was their strength and shield. Why did God choose the weakest to represent Him? So His greatness alone could be the reason for their success, for their survival, and so they would be a people-picture of His own step into history as a seemingly inconsequential, supposedly weak, and most definitely faithful servant of God.

After centuries of us rewriting what God should be doing in the world, God slipped into our ranks in the person of a man named Jesus (actually a common name at the time) to show us what God was doing in the world. And we didn't even know it.... We'd flipped the script so completely that our view of God's love was some kind of utopia on earth with the charred bones of our oppressors rising as a fragrant aroma to Him. The shackled 'powers that be' would serve us underfoot as God had originally intended. Or so we thought. But God taught us service without return, sacrifice for the ones who hate you, and love for all... even your enemies.

Especially your enemies. So what if you love the ones who think you're great? Everyone does that. Here's a cookie. The way of love means the death of all we think makes us, well, us. We have to die completely to the flesh that will fight to the death to protect itself, to get what belongs to it, to scratch and claw it's way to the top before turning back and loving from the rank and file of leadership. Love says that kind of attitude leaves everyone lonely and broken and abused and disillusioned and angry and, eventually, in more torment than your own personal hell. Love tells us to do what is counter intuitive, to sacrifice self for another, and to die for those who don't deserve your affection. Just like Israel. Just like us. They didn't deserve open and vulnerable affection, and neither do most of us most of the time. But God gives it anyway - unadulterated love.

That's because love is crazy. If we wrote the book - the dictionary I mean, not the Bible - we certainly wouldn't describe love in those kinds of uncomfortable ways. In fact, one of our own did write that particular book and came nowhere near the transcendentally beautiful definition of love that God gives us. And none so unswerving or resistant to sentimentality. Such love stands not as opinion but as truth.

Truth is also crazy. It's like pure alcohol or pure drugs. You take pure alcohol or drugs into your system, you're going to die. In the same way, if you take pure truth into your body you're going to die. Your flesh is going to have a fit, you'll convulse, you'll fight the inevitable, and then you are going to die. Truth outlives lies and falsehood, even if we're not around to see it. Truth kills whatever is not permanent. Because truth is permanent. The very definition of truth assumes an inverse, and that the inverse is not truth. If we only had truth in this world, we would not need a word like truth. It would be understood that everything we or anyone else said was true. As in not false, not a lie, not deception, not misleading, not even sarcasm... not untrue.

Love that is not true is subject to amendments. "I love you as long as," "I love you enough to be generous on our prenuptial agreement," or "I used to love you but I don't anymore." No. Such love is not love at all, but emotional entanglement. Entrapment of the heart which, as scripture tells us, is deceitful above all else (Jeremiah 17:9-10). Love that is true acknowledges upsets, difficulties, and struggles but holds firm through it all. Love like that expects trouble, it doesn't get surprised by it. The jealousy that comes from real, true love is not a controlling or demanding temperament but a zealous protection of the object of that love. Love is decision and emotion, pleasure and pain. In fact, true love starts the relationship despite the knowledge that pain is coming. In much the same way, God started a relationship with an unfaithful people and sent His Son to die for those same people. His resurrection sealed the deal, covered our sinful flesh with His own perfection, and assigned those of us who follow Him a place with Him in eternity.

If I were writing the ways of love, as Francis Chan says in his book Erasing Hell, I sure wouldn't write it like that. Love like that is just crazy.

Loving Pains...

My second trip to Niños de Baja was even more impacting than the first. These kids cannot help but punch through my chest, grab on to my heart, and teach it what it means to beat for love. After the previous trip I was able to learn the names of some of the kids and call them by name. They seemed genuinely surprised and pleased to be spoken to personally in addition to being played with.

But the main reason this trip was so special is because I was joined by Pete, Sandy, Hunter, Jacob, Bryer, Macie, Kristi, Ashley, and Nick. We came earlier than last time and were able to do some work for NdB as well as spend some great time with the children there. We started the day playing with the kids - pushing them on swings, picking them up and swinging them around, and generally loving on them - and then worked at the guest house and main building. After this we went back to play with the children and this was the first time of the day that I got to see 'strong and beautiful' (for the sake of safety, I won't put the children's names here). I think she did remember me, and I certainly remembered her.

As we played, my heart swelled to watch the other members of the group with the kids, some moved to gentle tears by their simplistic and welcoming beauty. These kids adored the attention and we loved indulging them. I don't consider it presumptuous at all to say that the love of God was flowing in abundance and touched everyone there. Some were more moved than others, for various reasons, and some remarked that they wanted to come back as soon as possible. Of the adults who went, one (at least) expressed a desire to return with some regularity, whatever that might mean in the working out of the trips. I am over and above pleased that the NdB bug has spread and even more hearts are being touched by this blessed place in El Porvenir.

On a personal note, my experience took the love I felt the first time to a whole new level. 'Strong and beautiful' and I fell right back into the same playing and tickling and swinging and such. She is such a doll!! This girl is a gem, a wonderful child of God with an infectious smile and a wonderful heart. Today I asked one of my youth group students how to say "I love you very much" in Spanish (te quiero mucho) so I could convey in the words of her heart what I felt in my heart for this angel. I told her several times and each time I knew I meant it. She played through it, did playful hits, and (I think) otherwise ignored what I was saying. She got hurt once and I held her as she cried; I was told that my affection for her was evident from the time I saw her until we left; one said they thought I should adopt her, because she obviously only had eyes for me while I was in there... I'm still reeling from that, and haven't yet been able to process what I'm feeling.

Leaving then was a real event. It was so hard to pull away, to stop our time together. Even as I walked around picking up toys and asking the kids to help, my eyes could not let her out of my sight. And when we finished and she and another girl were playing with another person, I have to admit I was jealous. I wanted to be with her, I wanted her to play with me, to look up a me with those eyes I've learned to love. I called her name and she looked at me. I took a step toward her and she did the same. We met up and I... well, honestly, I don't remember what happened next. But somehow I ended up carrying her, holding her, as a third reminder that we needed to go was voiced. I whispered to her again, "te quiero mucho" and softly tried to hug her close to me.

My heart broke open and I melted into her as she, for the first time, leaned easily against my chest. I held her head and told her she was bonita and gently swayed her back and forth - I think it was as much to comfort me as to comfort her. She rested there easily against me as my mind reeled from all the firsts that happened with this beautiful little girl. She got hurt, showed me it was her hand, and I kissed that hand. She allowed me to really hug her without pushing away. She rested in my arms and cried as I rocked her back and forth. She laid her head on my shoulder and allowed me to hold and kiss her head as I swayed her in a silent goodbye. And she cried with me as I told her again that I loved her very much.

She knew I was leaving. I knew I was leaving. It was hard and, even harder, is the thought that it might be more than a couple weeks before I can see her again. Somehow, that just doesn't seem right to me. Honestly, I hate it. I want to see her again today, and every day thereafter. Distance is a cruel taskmaster. I think I'll end this note with the discomfort I feel, and all the swirling, jumbled questions still unanswered.

The Orphaned and Fatherless

One day when I was around eight years old, maybe younger (or a little bit older), I went shopping with my mother. As she tried on items, uselessly telling me to "stay here," I ran amuck between and underneath the clothing racks. I was having a blast - adventures far away from Mervyn's in my mind. And it was great, until I looked for mom where she had been last time I saw her and she wasn't there. She wasn't there. Everything had been great and then the one thing I thought would never happen, did. She had left me, and I was alone.

Yesterday afternoon at an orphanage in El Porvenir, Mexico I saw the most beautiful children. One was a drug baby and, though well over the acceptable age, was just learning to walk after being left. She was abandoned in a drug house, so who knows the condition she was left in - I don't recall because, honestly, my ears failed by then as my eyes usurped the focus needed to take in this beautiful gem of a girl. One would watch me playing with the other girls as we laughed but wouldn't come close - I don't know her story but also don't know if I could even stand to know it. There were two others who couldn't get enough of me tickling them, chasing them around their community bedroom, and playing make-believe - the fact that I didn't know what they said seemed to matter very little. I feigned dying of exhaustion earlier on and was moved to watch them both return the gesture for me as I left (the first time) to see some of the older children. It seemed a last-ditch effort to keep me there. Even though my Spanish is weak, we played and laughed and they talked to me as I smiled without understanding. They were absolutely adorable.

Before I left I went to each one of them, doing my American best to look them in the eye and say "muy Bonita!" I asked one of the directors how to say 'hugs (abrazo)' and 'strong (fuerte),' so I could speak directly to them and get hugs before I left. I asked for those hugs and many did come for hugs though a few were more reserved. They seemed guarded, neither wanting to come close for a hug nor wanting me to leave without swinging them around or acknowledging them first.

One of the girls, who was quick to want to cuddle/be tickled was also quick to show how tough she was (she later feigned death and did surprisingly well ignoring the tickling assault and fake-crying over her). My heart went out to her, not knowing what she had endured in her short life. Though quickest to reach me, she was also most resistant to a hug. She would come in close enough for me to hug, actually leaning against me, but would lightly hit my shoulder. As I said goodbye and hugged and tickled her I told her I would be back, but I also said to her, "muy bonita, muy fuerte." I hugged her close and playfully shook her, something she both fought and stayed close for, standing and sitting on my knees.

From there I went to see the older children there, and watched them play their computer and video games during their hour allotment. When that was over, they seemed happy to play around with us humans and, just like the younger ones, seemed thrilled to have someone to go for a tickle or teach them a ridiculous handshake. One boy tried to mount my back but I swung him around at the other boys, an activity all seemed to enjoy. When we started to leave that building, despite the language barrier he made clear his intentions: he was going up on my back. He did, and we played, and he climbed up higher to sit on my shoulders - which DID make it easier to faux-ram him into doorway arches, clothes lines, and ceiling fans. He didn't speak English and I don't speak much Spanish, but I'm pretty sure I caught the well-used, smile-surrounded, "you crazy!"

When we returned to the main orphanage building the girls I had played with before were being brought out into the larger community room. The same girls found me, especially the 'beautiful strong' one. As I picked her up, swung her around, and playfully slammed her down on the couch she was talking to me as I said, "See, I told you I'd come back." We played for a few minutes before we finally had to begin the drive back to Lakeside. She followed me to the door and didn't want to let go. Neither, I must confess, did I. She finally had to be called away by one of the female caregivers and I walked to my van with schemes in my heart for when and how I could come back.

As I said goodbye and thank you to Jerry and Robin for showing us around and 'lucky' to summer intern Leanne for getting to be with them more she said, "yeah, but when you do have to leave they make it really hard. Sometimes I wish I didn't speak Spanish." "Well," I replied, " I don't and it doesn't make it any easier!" Leanne countered, "yeah, it was kind of sad that while you were saying 'see I told you I'd come back' she was saying 'don't leave, don't leave.'" As we drove back my heart broke to think of what she was saying to me, and the brokenness those words undoubtedly came from. I don't know that I can stop the tears from coming when I think of it - and part of me doesn't want to.

We were not at Niño's de Baja for very long at all but it took even less time for true love to be conveyed and received. These children didn't know me, we didn't speak the same language, but experiences like this change us precisely because love transforms and is the same no matter the language. As I played with these beautiful children, I touched the face and heart of God. They are children beloved of God, a truth I only saw a glimpse of, and it completely broke my heart for them! These kids deserve more than life has given them, yet they can run and laugh and play with an absolute stranger and put our American pursuits of happiness to shame.

We shared a common reality because all of us had been left by our parents. My mom came back though. They were literally abandoned, cut off from the ones who were supposed to love them and look after them. Alive, but in every sense of the word aborted, killed by their parents, and yet dying for someone to breathe the breath of life and love into them again. Driving away felt like I was doing the same. Abandoning them to their own private hell. But being there with them - that felt like heaven. Like heaven is where they will finally be loved and cared for by people they've never met but have loved them all their lives. Loving and being loved as a part of a family, not because they or we have to but because they and we get to...

'Strong' and 'Beautiful' is the one in prime tickle position, shoes facing the camera. Top & bottom pictures are from the orphanage but not from my visit; the middle picture is from a stock photography site. I hope to make many other posts about these beautiful children with actual photos of them in the future.

Easily Touched

I wish I had the self-respect or the machismo - is that the understanding? - to pretend I didn't have an emotional bone in my body. But the wonderful fact is that I am both a man of sport and mud and sweat and work, and a man of tender love and compassion and sympathy and attempts at vulnerability and transparency. When did we, as a culture and as a world, buy into the lie that a man is cold and calculating, not allowing emotions or care to 'negatively' influence steely-willed rational thought? Unfortunately, this is about the furthest thing from a man you can find.

Men need to strike out again as the providers, conquerors, lovers, and dreamers God created us to be. (As a brief caveat, I wish to address that I don't at all suggest that men need to finally get in touch with their "feminine sides." This man does not believe that men have feminine sides - we have the God-endowed capacity to practice godly masculinity, which includes a sensitivity and compassion that is suited to caring for others, and especially women as the precious treasures they are. Without this sensitivity, men are lacking the full expression of the nature given to them. Women, also, can be instrumental in helping us learn to exercise this strength.) We have for too long allowed these beautiful qualities to be bastardized by selfishness, weakness, fear, and comfort. And I'm not talking about returning to a time when women had their male-prescribed roles to fill so the men in their lives can rule with an iron fist and a pot belly. What I am talking about is this:

1. A man who works his butt off, with a heart to provide for those in his charge, even if his wife still has to work (or wants to). I despise those lazy jaggamoes who let their woman go work their butts off so they can eat and play video games and ignore even the work that needs to be done around the house. SHAME on you!
2. A man who will fight for his family and his children and everyone's well-being at the sacrifice of himself - just like the men on the Titanic that willingly went to their deaths to get as many women and children on the boats as possible. These men don't give up when love gets hard, when raising kids becomes thankless, and when doing the right thing means they'll suffer for it. They fight. And if they screwed up in the past, they make amends, take their earned lumps, and move forward. I despise those selfish jaggamoes who think they deserve to be happy at the expense of others, and deserve to reject those they've previously made commitments to - either through marriage, steady relationship, or creating a child - in favor of someone or something new. You're not a man; you're a little boy with the puberty-granted ability to make babies. SHAME on you!
3. A man who will love a woman as Jesus loved the Church and gave Himself over to death for her. A man who sacrificially loves a woman as he loves himself, providing for and nourishing her above all else - showing that kind of love to the children under you can break down walls and destroy decades of familial curses passed through the ages. I despise those selfish jaggamoes who love only when it's convenient, and consider that love does not include doing the dishes, laundry, child duty, apologizing when you're in the wrong, compromising for the sake of these relationships, spiritually leading those God has placed in your care, and prioritizing your nuclear family above all other relationships in your life. SHAME on you!
   
4. A man who dreams a better way for his family and takes risks to provide and nourish them. I despise those selfish jaggamoes who spend more time thinking about themselves than about the ones they claim to love and care for. SHAME on you!

Now, for a moment of clarity and truth, at times I have been each of these men I despise. I don't consider myself as being through the rough waters and smooth sailing from here on out. I know it takes work each and every day, for the rest of my life, but I'm not the kind of man that wants to shrink back from the struggle. I've been a boy, I've been a guy, and a man is better by far.

Where did all this come from? Nothing dramatic or personal, in the strict sense of the word, but a commercial. A commercial I've watched before, I've posted on Facebook, and I have successfully wept over each time I saw it. I don't mean waterfalls or anything, just that tear of recognition over something beautiful, sneaking out the corner of my right eye (and it doesn't hurt that there's an adorable young girl in it that ignites this father's heart to give Jace a little sister). A commercial done by someone in the UK, this commercial:

So why share it? Because I'm a man. And I'm not afraid to share it. All of it.

Shopping & Manhood

I know times will change. When shopping means Jace potentially getting lost as he runs ahead without a care in the world. When an outing means he will embarrass me by testing my public parenting chops by being disobedient or even disrespectful. I know it might even return to tedium. But, for right now at least, I really enjoy shopping with my wife and son. The benefits are endless:

1. You no longer need a cart. The stroller doubles as a cart, with convenient storage pockets beneath, and on top of, my son.
2. The items for purchase double as toys for the young child. Perfect for those pinches when toys are not available. Note: when child is not old enough to have mastered the enjoyment of throwing items, this works.
3. Not only do mommy and daddy get their chores done, but they get to watch their child's gears of learning turn in the process.
4. Great photo opportunities present themselves.
5. Daddies get credit for family time while still getting stuff done.
6. When child is older and can breathe through their mouths as well, parents get to enjoy the "cover him with items and see how long it takes for him to get out" game. Note: child crying or starting to cry but then stopping abruptly should not be laughed at while ignoring the child. By all means, check on the baby while you laugh.

Men, it's time to stand up and enjoy your times with your family. When you have the opportunity to invest in the life of your child(ren), take it. You can choose to turn tedium into treasures, and kindle love when lacking fresh ideas. And chances are even your failures won't be as big a blip on their radar screens as you think they'll be. Put forth the effort and the message will get through. We men don't like to fail - it's true - so men need to leave abandonment, disconnection, unfaithfulness, and selfishness to the movies.

When you were a boy, the only one you had to worry about was yourself. You became a guy when puberty hit, and your responsibilities varied. Becoming a man comes with considerable choice and effort attached. If you haven't already, it's time to graduate. Don't just claim manhood. Prove it.

Peek-A-Boo

Being a parent is one of the best occupations in this world if only because, through my son, I am given a glimpse into the heart of God for us.

Jace has recently been giving his dad quizzical looks when I'm talking to him. More often than not I find I've been making some sort of face and maybe he's not able to place how he should feel, or react emotionally, to the face. When I notice this, my first instinct is to flash him a smile lest he think my love for him has somehow gone away.

At eight months old, I doubt his thoughts go much deeper than that (and, honestly, probably not even that deep since love is an action-based concept that doesn't come naturally to us). Right now his needs are security that his needs will be met and an environment of relative familiarity with opportunities for exploration and discovery. If that security or environment is disrupted in his mind, all he knows is literally going away from him. He doesn't know where, or why, or have any concept of duration. What he does know is that what was once there now is not. And that is scary.

Have you wondered at how ridiculous the game of Peek-A-Boo is to us adults but how young babies can be surprised over and over again? When I peek out from behind a blanket or large toy and say, "Here I am," I take such joy from watching his little eyes dart from wherever they are looking back to me. Even more enjoyable is when he checks a few locations before looking directly at me, like I had somehow moved to some place else.

It seems this is the way we interact with God sometimes. Though we consider ourselves more intelligent than children, and more capable of dealing with abstract concepts than they are, our relationship with the Almighty Creator of heaven and earth is like a strange game of Peek-A-Boo. Even for those of us who have met God before, we sometimes need to be reminded where He is. When life's circumstances - unprovoked or self-inflicted - take a turn for the worst, we do what we do with our own friends and family: deflect the responsibility we hold and angrily ask, "where WERE you? Why did you abandon me? How could you let this happen to me?"

In this way, we are much like the children we see as below ourselves. Our understandings on God more often have to do with opinions, questions, feelings, culture, and past atrocities than on what God says about His own nature. Even in saying 'Him' I know some get hung up on their own issues instead of coming to God as God is. A feminist theologian uses the feminine imagery for God in the Bible as a battle-ax to destroy the faith of an earnest believer who mistakenly thinks of God as a flesh-and-blood man, and walks home smugly justified - not aware of, or unconcerned by, the harm they've caused. A woman with a bad childhood says she can't follow God because if God's a father, she wants nothing to do with Him. A man with a complex uses God as a hammer to beat others into submission to his will, not God's. A family lost a loved one so if Christians talk about a loving God who wants the best for us, they do the math and arrive at "you can have Him." Examples are, unfortunately, endless. The pains are real - I don't mean to make light of them - and if we're not careful we will construct a picture of God that is caricature-, not character-, driven.

We intuitively know what being judged based on stereotypes, false or incomplete information, ignorance or malice feels like. We are right to hate such condemning glances in our direction. And yet it is the way of our world, one we inarguably succumb to where others are concerned. We miss when we treat others in this fashion, and we miss when we treat God in this way. God is the easy target, the laughable fall-guy who doesn't hit back because, hey, He's not really there anyway. And if He is, He stopped caring a long time ago and enjoys long walks on a faraway beach and celestial nap time. So we judge God not on what is true, not on what is revealed in the Bible, but on the mistakes of His followers. It's easier that way: no excuses can atone, no level of ignorance can cover it up, and most importantly no work has to be done on the part of the accuser. Just tow the historical line of those who rejected Jesus long before your grandparents were around.

Peek-A-Boo.

I wonder what God thinks of when we open our eyes each morning to the wonders He created and yet refuse to see Him in them. Scripture tells us both that God is patient and loving with us and one day will allow us to, proverbially, lie in whatever bed we've made. He tells us He delights to save. He wants all to turn to Him. He watches us ignore Him and flout His commands and is patient and loves us anyway. But He also says the pride of the arrogant before Him will be their undoing. He will not allow people to get away with making a mockery of His name forever (talking to believers and non-believers). He is showing Himself to us and calling us to get up and follow but we are blind, deaf, and lame.

We look around and we don't see Him. If it takes even minimal work to know what God wants from us, work like reading the Bible to see His desires, it's just too much. But God is right there: in front of us, beside us, behind us, surrounding us, and if we look where He has told us we will surely find Him. Unfortunately, too many act like because we need to look at all, it's like a game of hide and seek ("why is God hiding?") or since it's too difficult to find God it can't be true ("why do I have to read - why can't God just show Himself to me? Then I'll believe.").

Peek-A-Boo.

God isn't hard to find - He's revealed Himself in the Bible. Our objections to His followers have prevented us from meeting Him. Have you ever refused to meet a person because one of their friends is a brute, or a jerk, or ignorant? Why do we do this with God? I believe it's because doing so is easier. Learning is difficult, and takes effort. Sustaining ignorant prejudice is effortless. As we look to God, He does not hide consequences of our selfish, sinful ways but reminds us that His love for us hasn't gone anywhere.

Familiarity with our environment comes with learning, not through osmosis or wishing it so. Can we honestly say that familiarity with God comes through some other means than what is learned? Special revelation is at the desire of God (not the demand of man or woman) but it is not His primary means of revelation to us. The gift God gives us - after the initial gift of being known by us and knowing us - is the excitement of exploring the greatness of God and discovering new-to-us truths that were not known beforehand. When we stop the search, when WE turn from the notice of God, it can appear that God has gone away.

And that's scary. Peek-A-Boo.

God has not left us. We have turned away from God. We must return to God, turn our eyes to look on His smile, and incline our ears to hear His commands and loving welcome. If we choose not to, then the consequences belong to us, and we are to blame. And that is scary.