We Are the Death Star (and There Is Always an Exhaust Port)

I’ve been thinking lately that God puts certain predispositions in us as forms of divine sabotage…

What happens is simple – the world gets crazy, the days are super busy and packed with work-thoughts, and there is no room for rest or delight or a refreshing breath. Without realizing it, we don’t have time to look for God, to listen for him, and slowly and subtly, we turn into little Death Stars – fortresses bristling with walls and armaments, ramparts and shields and grey stone and concrete, impervious to the love set like land mines all around us, in nature and God’s words and community. But God, in all his wisdom, made sure we have weaknesses – the exhaust port of the Death Star, the heels of Achilles – flaws and chinks in our armor where his words will impact us and break through, usually in the most unexpected ways. Even in the best made fortress of the human heart, there can be a way for God’s love to break in.

I’m not sure what this is for everyone else; as I’ve said before, for me, I’m realizing that these chinks in my armor, these things that make me stop and marvel at God’s love (the story of Jesus, played out over and over), are in nature, and the beauty of the skyline against the mountains, and the simple miracles of people saying things which I’ve been thinking for a long time and haven’t been able to put into words, or the wonder of stumbling upon the most incredible surprises (like, for instance, yesterday, finding a field of spongy, perfect grass – lie-down, roll-around, picnic grass – right in the shadow of Hong Kong’s most iconic skyscraper).

For every Death Star, there’s a ragtag group of rebels with a rust-bucket ship.

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