Lactose intolerant

Today I went to the Prayer and Meditation chapel. We have 36 chapel credits we need to get every semester... and with my schedule, I often opt to take a nap during the chapels on Mondays Wednesdays and Fridays to catch up on actually functioning after my first class. So this new thing, a Prayer and Meditation chapel at 1:30-2:20 every Tuesday, is excellent. Excellent indeed.

The requirement is staying for a minimum of 30 minutes. I figure, hey that's pretty easy. I brought my Bible and a notebook, and slipped in. Everyone was scattered in the pews of Luzader chapel, the tiny chapel in the Whitlock Music Center. I took a row more towards the front. I didn't see any open rows, and it seemed like each person would kinda claim one for themselves.

I opened my Bible, amazed at the nearly see-through-thin pages. You'd think I had two cookie sheets and was banging them together like a toddler in the middle of a kitchen adventure while mom's on the phone. The room was so quiet. After it was done intimidating me, it welcomed me softly. I accepted it's gentle invitation to exist within it. Once I found my place in my Bible:)

I finished reading Romans. I usually read about a chapter or so when I read my Bible. Sometimes I'll read only half or something if I just need to wait and soak through a smaller passage. But in the openness of having perfect uninterrupted time, I read through a lot more than I usually do.

I continued into 1 Corinthians. Chapter 3 verse 2 says, "I gave you milk, not solid food, for you were not ready for it. Indeed you are still not ready."

I felt God kinda nudge me, asking me what I only receive in "milk form." The things I only tip toe around hearing or doing or learning.

Then there are the areas in my life I won't receive even if it's "milk."

As far back as I can remember, there are only a few drinks I could never down. I love water. I've always loved water. It's the only thing my parents would give me as a kid. Now it's the only thing that can cure my thirsty mouth. I didn't love soda, but I'd tolerate it every so often. Juice was pretty good. But milk? Gross. Never. Unless it was in my cereal, or added to chocolate syrup. That's how I like it.

I think I still do that. When God tries to gently, slowly speak to me about something, I won't even take the "milk" unless there's some chocolate in there too.

My point is, sometimes even in the most non-intimidating forms, we can't accept certain things.

So this is something God's taking me through. It's not always a matter between milk and solid food. Sometimes it's about whether or not I can even stomach the milk He gives me.

And so the journey continues with my bitter tongue and the things I must learn to like. I blame my parents and their own picky tastes. As far as my faith goes, blame doesn't satisfy any excuse with what God has to say to me. Sometimes with God I try to reason I'm not just gluten intolerant, but lactose intolerant. Whew buddy...

My conclusion is I really like the Prayer and Meditation chapels. I think I'll keep going.