“There’s a wideness in God’s mercy I cannot find in my own, and he keeps his fire burning to melt this heart of stone. Keeps me aching with a yearning, keeps me glad to have been caught in the reckless raging fury that they call the love of God.”
Love–that wretched four letter word. It is malleable, unwieldy, and shifty. It is incalculably broad, mercifully wide. It is not mathematical, less than systematic, logically anomolaic. Love finds room for the unrepentant and regenerated alike. Love is not fair. Love is not an affair. It is wholly other.
I’ve watched proper theology work itself out in many kinds of impropriety. A kid, a really smart one, pushed against the lover metaphors in Hosea and Soloman’s Song with such formulaic vehemence. Removing the reckless relational love from whores and brides alike kept God a bit more understandable. A bit more at arm’s length. It was theology for the theoretical.
Sinners have seen this logarithmic God too, right? They have stopped coming as they are. In fact, they have stopped coming at all. “It’s okay,” the theologians say, “no one seeks God, after all.” No not one. And so, losses have been excused due to proper theology.
What if God’s love recklessly seeks the broken, the ones with terrible theology. What if God cares first about the soul, about lost coins? What if Jesus meant what he said about dogs and vipers.
*P.S. my auto correct always tries to change Blase to Blasé. Just thought I’d mention that.