Remembering...

Cold

Ask anyone of 27 thousand Bomber fans about the game on Saturday and they'll probably go into a description of the quarterback, or maybe the lacking defense on the part of the secondaries. I will tell you the same things - and then I will add that I'm glad the Bombers started to play in the 4th quarter because that was about the time that I wondered what craziness had brought me to sit outside and freeze to watch my football team suck it up in the playoffs. At least I could start to cheer about something again and get the blood moving to warm up a bit.
It was cold.

The last time I remember being that cold was - strangely enough - at the Grey Cup game 2 years ago. It was that same "pain in my toes" cold. Again, brought on by my own choice. I wanted to be there.

And if I really think about it, prior to that, the joint pain I remember was in my hands - in an attempt to throw snowballs at friends. Again, my own choice.

The last while I've been feeling "cold" in regards to God.
It feels like it takes a lot to get the blood running and to really feel excited about our relationship.
Don't get me wrong.
The solid truths still seem to hold firm.
I know them - and for the most part,
can stick to them.
However, the desire to do so,
or to invest my time and energy,
or to want to invest my time and energy
is where the "cold" comes in.

Funny thing is,
that like the cold in my joints,
I own much of the responsibility for this feeling of lack-lustre faith.
Choosing to trust
choosing to invest
choosing to find joy
instead of plugging away of my own accord...
all of those pieces I have control over.

And my choices have left me cold.
God has been throwing mitts at me.
This last week my inner "thermostat"
has been very aware of the temperature of my faith.
And I got mitts.
And boots.
And an extra large hot chocolate.

It seems that God won't let my cold be the final say.
He's brought in some 4th quarter action to get the blood running again.

He got my attention.