Still Saturday::of such as these...
We have forgotten the God of small things, which is mostly what he has been with us because we are ourselves small, fragile things.
We wait impatiently, sometimes hopelessly, for the burning-bush God, or the booming thunderclap God, forgetting that even a righteous man like Job cowered before the whirlwind of God's voice, that holy Moses could bear only a glimpse of God's backside.
We assume that we would hold up well against a visitation by the whirlwind God, and in our narcissistic longing we forget the God of the still, small voice, the suffering-servant God, the God who said of children that his kingdom consists of such as these.
