Why does it have to be that way?

Last night as I watched American Idol I received a text message from Dad: "Go outside. The eclipse is starting!" I grabbed my camera and Scott's slippers and ventured out on the porch. Our yard provided the perfect stage for the display God had for us last night. As I looked up, I literally had my breath taken away. A bright full moon, partially eclipsed by a mere sliver of darkness. We've had eclipses before, of course, but it's usually cloudy (if not raining) and the timing of the visible part of the eclipse is usually such that only tomcats and possums can see it. Last night, though, I got to see the performance. I got to see what looked like the finger of God sliding over the surface of the moon, and all I could say was, "God, thank You! You're amazing!" I was speechless and breathless and teary-eyed.

I was struck by how big God is, and how only He could orchestrate something like that. Only He could create a night like that with a scene like that, and only He is good enough to include His children in something so magnificent.

At the same time as my marveling, though, I felt a tug. A pull from inside. "You're missing American Idol, you know." What? Did I actually just think that? I'm out here seeing God and witnessing something He created, and I'm even remotely conscious that I'm missing a stupid TV show? "Well, it's that...but you also need to get in the shower and get ready for bed." Whoa! Stop it! "You didn't sleep well last night and you're already tired. You need to get some sleep or you're going to be useless." I cannot believe these thoughts are going through my mind! Focus, Jess. Focus. "It's cold and you have things to do. Go back inside." And I did.

Granted, I had seen most of it, and yes - I did have to get ready for bed so that I wouldn't have to use the eclipse as an excuse for why I would be brain dead at work. I was in God's presence, though, and was pulled away by such trivial things that - let's be honest - happen every week, if not every night. Why?

It didn't stop there. Once Scott got home and I was ready for bed, I had the gall to get mad at him because I coudn't get to bed as early as I wanted to. We go to bed together (we're still newlyweds, I guess!), so I wait for him to be ready, and he was doing a bunch of things he hadn't been able to do earlier because he hadn't been home. I was ready to go to sleep, he was busy doing something else, and I could feel myself getting angry. I was rude and mean and snapped at him.....and why? Because I was selfish and wrapped up in little stuff that doesn't matter. I had only a little while earlier been in such a place of praise and adoration of a God that is higher and bigger than anything around me - anything I can see - and I so quickly fell back into the junk of life.

I felt so bad that then - even once we were both in bed, the lights were out, and his breathing settled into that rhythmic pattern of sleep - I couldn't sleep. I wasn't mad anymore, but I was upset with myself. I was upset with my flesh, and I was upset that I have to be so much of the world no matter how hard God pursues me. What does He have to do to get my attention? What will it take?

I look up at your macro-skies, dark and enormous, your handmade sky-jewelry, moon and stars mounted in their settings. Then I look at my micro-self and wonder, Why do you bother with us? Why take a second look our way? (Psalm 8:3 MSG)