This is the blog post that almost never was. I started writing it, but was interrupted partway through, so I saved it as a draft. I soon lost the thought I was trying to convey, so I deleted the draft. But a day or so ago, I was reading through some notes in my current journal, which I'm about to finish, and I recovered the words that sparked the idea. Some of you know that I've been reading the Psalms for months now. It's my favorite book of the Bible, and right now I'm joyously luxuriating in one of my favorite parts of it (today I read Psalm 77. It rocked my face off). But back around the time of our choir retreat, I was reading Psalm 44, which was a tough one. Amid the paragraphs of my hieroglyphic handwriting, I scribbled these words about it:

"This entire psalm gives me a feeling of wildness: wild mountains and something much bigger than myself. It's something I'm not necessarily going to figure out -- and quite frankly, I have to be okay with that. You do not always provide answers, nor do You promise that. You do promise that You will be with me."

I think it's incredibly strange and meta that I'm quoting myself. But I digress.

As I studied that psalm, the idea entered my head: God is wild. Not wild as in "savage" or "crazy" -- but wild in that He cannot be tamed. 

Yesterday I was reading Psalm 76, and it compared God to a mountain: "Glorious are You, more majestic than the mountains of prey" (Psalm 76:4). The reference to mountains made me incredibly joyous. If you noticed, I even referenced mountains when I was writing about Psalm 44, because mountains remind me of a world and an adventure that is so much greater than I am.

That's what God is, y'all. God is so much bigger than we are. Isaiah tells us that His ways are not our ways, nor are His thoughts our thoughts (Isaiah 55:8-9). He is beyond us -- so far we cannot comprehend it. He cannot be tamed. He cannot be hemmed in by our little minds. We aren't always going to understand Him. And quite frankly, we have to be okay with that.

I think we long for this kind of wildness, in the same way we crave adventure. We yearn so deeply for something that is bigger than we are, some quest in which we can take part. For some joyous thing that sweeps about us like the wind and reminds us of who we are and Whose we are.

Christ is the thing that's bigger than we are. He is the Adventure. His is the journey and the quest. He is the joyousness that wraps us up in love and calling.

We don't understand Him. How could we? He is greater than we.

To us, He may seem wild. And maybe He is. Maybe His laugh tears loose from His lips like a gust of wind. Maybe He dances jubilantly, like King David did before the Ark of the Covenant. His wisdom and might and holiness are unparalleled, unapproached -- but He cannot be tamed, cannot be made to fit into our little minds.

We aren't always going to understand His ways. But we can know that He loves us, that He dances over us, that He is with us.

He is the Adventure we've always wanted.

Let's embrace Him fully, as that Adventure, untamable power and wisdom and joy and all. Let's love Him wildly, rejoice wildly, live abundantly, as He meant for us to do.

He came that we might be alive. Free. Maybe -- maybe -- a little untamable ourselves. Maybe a little wild.

He's not savage. He's not crazy. Neither are we. He is Himself. We are just free.

Let us live freely in the Adventure today. Let us dance with wild abandon, knowing we are loved and called by the One we've always wanted. Let us rejoice, for in His own freedom, we are free, too.