God and the Couch

God and the Couch

As you may know, I now have a cat.

I don’t think she realizes that.

Monica, our new kitten, has been residing under the couch.  We’ve had her now for 9 days and she only comes out at night.  If we want to pet her, we need to stretch our arms as far as we can to reach her under the sectional.  Jerry’s arms are a little thicker than mine so we put books under the feet (all 15 of them) to raise the seating high enough so that he could pet her.  It also makes it easier for Monica to come and go at night; and, she can now watch TV with us (an unintended outcome).

Our living room has hardwood flooring and can get quite cold, so we bought a large rug which lays in front of the sectional.  But, the part of the couch that Monica lays under is not covered with warm carpeting.  We bought a cat tree which sits in the corner behind the sectional, but I haven’t seen her in it yet.

I just don’t get it.

Jerry and I sit in comfort while she lays on the hard, cold floor.  Only 24″ separate us.  It would take nothing at all for her to curl up in our laps to find warmth, comfort, safety, and love.

Why would she want anything else?

Why won’t she allow us to love her, to keep her warm and cozy, and help her feel safe?

Why would she choose to be cold, to be uncomfortable, to be alone?

Who would choose that?

You’re probably wondering why we don’t just scoop her up and take her into our loving arms.

Oh… I’ve thought about it.

I’ve thought about reaching under the couch, pulling her out and holding her tightly in my lap.

How else will she learn that it’s warmer and more comfortable on top of the couch?

How else will she know that it’s warmer and cozier on the cushions?

How else would she know that we love her?

Monica chooses the underside of the couch because she is still getting to know us.  She has a certain amount of fear and distrust in us and in her new surroundings.

The changes in her life have been pretty drastic these last 2 weeks.

She left a home she knew, a foster dad she loved, and over 40 siblings that she played with every day.  She was moved to a strange place without her feline friends, and has new parents whom she does not know.

Forcing her to sit on the sectional with us would not be love; it would be a selfish act because we’d (me, really) like a kitten to reciprocate snuggles and who will purr in our lap.

So, we patiently wait.

We softly whisper her name.

We slowly reach out to her and hope that one day she will reach back.

I’m finding it difficult because I have fallen in love with this little girl and want so badly to get her off the hard cold floor and into my arms where I can keep her safe.  It makes me sad that it has to be this way for now.

People are very much like Monica when it comes to our relationship with God.

We choose the cold floor instead of the warmth of God’s lap.

While He reaches down to us, we reach out only enough to touch His fingertips.  Sometimes, we hear Him whispering our names, but normally we don’t reply.

Why is that?

It’s fear.

We’re afraid of so many things.

Fundamentally, it comes down to the fear of obedience.

Fear of what God might be asking of us.

Fear of needing to change our lifestyle to one of holiness.

Fear of giving up those things we’ve come to rely on no matter how much they harm us.

Fear and sin keep us from sitting comfortably and safely in God’s lap.  We choose the floor, yet, things are so much better on top of God’s sectional

So, why doesn’t He just pick us up?

The same reason we don’t reach down and grab Monica.

God doesn’t force us to love Him.  He wants us to choose Him when we’re ready.  I’m sure it makes Him sad knowing we’re only an arm’s reach away from the most beautiful, safe, and cozy place imaginable.

I hope to be there one day and I pray you’ll be there with me.

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