By: Jennie Scott
There’s a point in every conversation where the other person breaks eye contact, glancing away to look at, well, who knows what. Maybe it’s another person, maybe a painting on the wall, or maybe it’s just to see anything other than my face.
You know that feeling, too? The one that says, “Well, they’re done talking to you. You’re boring, you have nothing interesting to say, and they are tired of you.” I know it’s not rational to think that a person’s inability to look into my eyes without glancing away means they’re tired of me. It’s probably not realistic to think that a glance away means they’re ready to dismiss me forever.
But I’m not always rational, and goodness knows I’m not always realistic. My insecurities lie just under the surface of my consciousness, ready to assume control and lead me astray. That’s because my insecurities are from my enemy.
I’ve always had a hard time being comfortable in a group of people. I’ve assumed I don’t fit in, whether there’s evidence to suggest it or not. Even in a one-on-one conversation, I often wonder what the other person would rather be doing. My assumed belief is that, at some point, people always get tired of me.
I’ve realised lately I assume the same of God.
Without one legitimate reason to believe it, I think sometimes God sees me coming and wants to hide like I do when I see people I want to avoid at the grocery store. I think sometimes my prayers enter his ears and he thinks, “Here she goes again.” I think he sees me like we see that chatty neighbour who doesn’t understand social cues and won’t let us get off the phone.
I let myself think he’s bothered by me, and I let myself think he gets tired of me.
This is the trap I fall into when I humanise God and limit him to my experiences with people. I unconsciously impose on him the characteristics I’ve seen in people.
But God is not like people, and I need daily reminders that he’s not.
Jennifer Dukes Lee writes in her incredible book It’s All Under Control, “Oh, the indefatigable ways of Jesus” (6). When I read that line, I stopped, underlined it, wrote it in my journal, and then sat and thought about it. Jesus doesn’t get tired of me. He doesn’t grow weary of my presence, and he doesn’t start looking around for an escape route when I approach. I don’t bother him, and he doesn’t see me as a nuisance. He feels only love and compassion for me.
It’s beyond comprehension. There’s One who never needs a break from me.
I don’t know where you are with God right now, but I’m pretty sure you could use this simple reassurance. You are safe with God. He wants you near. And he will never, ever get tired of you.
Article supplied with thanks to Jennie Scott.
About the Author: Jennie is married with two children who shares lessons from her own unexpected journeys and encouragement you might need for yours.