You are weird God.
Duck billed platapus? Lemmings? Even sheep are pretty weird looking, we're just more used to them.
But weirdest of all is this pink, flabby, lanky ball of flesh that for some reason you love. This odd thing that for some reason is alowed each day to keep breathing.
How did you design me? How did you know exactly which pieces to put where? How did you know how to make my brain the way it is? That it would respond to this stimulae and that? trigger this thought, then that one?
You are so weird...
what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?
I hate excercise, I love to sit and be lazy. Under my own strength, with my own will, I could run 50 feet...maybe.
How is it then, that when I think about you, about your word, and praise your name that the kilometers melt away? And no pain resides in my body, and my body disapears and I feel only a reflection of your spirit?
How is it that when I focus on your word, your promises, your greatness, you can take this pink, flabby, gangly thing and turn it into wind?
Early in the morning, when the moon and the sun still fight for a place in the sky, how can you transfrom me?
And so your praises flow from my mouth, albeit dry, parched, breathless, non-existent.
"Who gave man his mouth? Who makes him deaf or mute? Who gives him sight or makes him blind? Is it not I, the LORD ?"
When my mind is focused upon your glory, my body transends itself, it breaks it's bonds of lazyness and becomes a slave to my mind, which is bond servant to Christ.
1 Corinthians 9:27
No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.
So praise be to God, the God of transformation, who can take this weak flesh and make it strong, who can take this weak will and make it his,
who can take this
and make it
Like the Wind