Today I acknowledged the existence of something I was never even looking for.
I saw God reflected through the unabashed love of my children. His pure, perfect love, emulating via their hugs and smiles. His enthusiasm for life evident in their tiny, clapping hands.
Then, alongside this beautiful truth came the ugly realization. If God can thrive inside of us, then, if we let him, Satan can too.
Sadder yet, is that I can also see the loathsome devil working inside people I love.
An abusive childhood–decades gone–haunting, hurting, and embittering the strong woman who left it behind.
An unfaithful husband being served divorce papers in front of the co-workers who he informed that the divorce happened last year.
A young man teeming with amazing talent, potential, lack of self-esteem, and cynicism.
And there’s me. The one who can see all of this, but does not know what she will do about it.
How do I tell them that God loves them? How do I blurt out the hopeful phrase, that ironically, seems to cause more tension than comfort? More doubt than reassurance? More anger than calm.
How do I help them to get the devil off their back (and mine)?
Showing your faithfully-distanced loved ones God sure can be tricky. At the moment I can see no other way to handle it, other than to keep holding Christ’s hand while attempting to walk the straight-and-narrow. To keep the prayers coming. To keep the potential for dialogue going.