Esprit d’escalier after a Spring-Creek-Park conversation about a friend’s experience with You, God, since a conference at Life Center back in February:
“Friend, I realize in retrospect that the reason for my muted reaction to your account of what God has done for you this past year was not jealousy or my own lack of similar experience: It was simply that what you were telling me was news Ethan has been sharing with me repeatedly since you encountered God so powerfully last February. I do remember rejoicing when I first heard the news. I praise God for it.
“It’s true that I don’t know what to say when speaking directly with someone describing an experience such as yours, because it’s true that I haven’t had much in the way of similar experience. But then, my heart is filled with peace and joy and light and has been—increasingly so—since my adolescence. Just because I’m not effervescent about Christ doesn’t mean I don’t love Him. I do always want to love Him with more of me, but I don’t need a powerful encounter to galvanize my love. Though to my limited understanding, it would be nice, for sure.
“On the subject of me finding it hard to get excited about the Gospel because I don’t understand it, perhaps an analogy will do: When you say Jesus showed His love for me when He allowed Himself to be executed by the Romans and Jews, I hear something akin to if Carla came to me and said, “Scott, I love you so much that I built an underground calliope that shoots chipmunks out of each pipe but only when you play in the key of B♭(my favorite key) so that when I want to see you and embrace, all I have to do is play a B♭ major chord to dispatch to chipmunks, who will run to tell you so.” If I don’t understand how you making an subterranean steam organ could mean ‘I love you,’ you won’t appreciate my love. If it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t make heart. You can’t tell me to stop trying to understand it, I don’t think.”