The Gold Rush Analogy

So often I talk with my mom and she says something truly profound. The way she speaks wisdom is with a sense of ease as if she’s staring at the world from a high tower and knows the inner workings of life. I’m so grateful for her, and she knows how much I love her.

Today we were talking about seeking God and how it describes this in Proverbs 2:4.  She asked me if she had told me the gold rush analogy. She hadn’t, so she told me and I wanted to share it with you.

“Gold miners risk everything to strike it rich mining for gold in the wilds of Alaska and other parts of the world. These people are literally looking for treasure. Though they may not find any gold in the summer, you know they’re going to try again in the spring. They have to go through a lot of dirt to find a small speck of gold. They live for that tiny piece of gold. See, that’s how we’re supposed to seek God. Every now and again we find a piece of Him in our day and it makes our entire lives worthwhile. But, life is tough and sometimes we have to go through a good amount of dirt to see the God of gold who has everything under control.”

Revelation: seek God as if He’s buried treasure.

Lately Divine

I’m seeing God again. I got another glimpse of home on Friday. Something triggered it and I don’t quite remember what it was. I believe I was writing a friend’s name down during class almost like a prayer request, and for a split second I felt the joy of perfection, of all things coming to justice—the notion that N.T. Wright claims is instilled in all of us from God. It looks like a sunny afternoon—what I’d imagine dancing in an apple orchard would feel like in the midst of spring love. It looks like solitude, but it’s all of us. We’re together laughing and soaking in the beauty of being a part of life. I think to myself, “If only everyone else could see what I’m seeing right now.” We would live our lives so differently—intentionally seeking love for a greater purpose, not to receive it back but to bless those around us for the greater end, for the God of the glimpse, for our return home.