the loose cannon

today there was a moment. it caught me by surprise.

i was laughing, most likely a little bit too loudly, in such a way and in such a place and at such a thing that it probably disturbed a few people around me. yes, others were laughing too ... but i was the disruption. and i caught a look ... you know, a look from someone. it read quite clearly, "annoyed."

the look was like a mirror to me. and i had the thought again. like so many other times, when i speak too quickly or assume too much or get preoccupied or distracted or just plain inconsiderate [in other words, self-centered], i saw in that mirror: there goes the loose cannon. the variable. the unstable element. the volatile one.

i really, really hate being the loose cannon. i'd much rather be dependable, respectful, the epitome of grace and propriety. i hate being a loose cannon.



but you know what is incredible?

God loves a loose cannon.


i mean, really? really, Lord? you have quite a knack for picking the rejects. you pick the loose cannons, and the failures. the cowards. the bumblers and the stutterers. the control freaks and the out-of-control tornadoes. you pick the crippled and the bruised, the tattered and torn, the bed-ridden and the blind, the deaf and the dumb. you pick the unpredictable one.

yes, God loves me, the loose cannon. and he picks me. because i've got nothing to boast about in myself. i'm the failure. the reject. the crippled, blind coward. so if i can bring Him glory, if i can bring the lost to Him ... it says nothing about me.

and it says everything about Him.



"i will rather boast, therefore, in my weaknesses ... so that the power of Christ may dwell in me."

if this is what You want to do, Lord, who am i to interfere?