“Be holy,” the stellar writer says, “because I am holy.” He might just as well say: “I am something that you will never be, can never be; now, get on with the task of being just that.” Which is sort of like saying, “Walk on water! But shoes with floats don’t count.”
The mystery is that he is always fiddling with impossibilities, twisting the unlikely into the probable. I read wild tales of God teaching paralytics to sprint, and blind folks to gawk at their newly enlightened world.
Does God perform moral tricks, too? Can he pull perfection out of my life as an illusionist might dip into a top hat and yank a bunny out by the ears?
The moral mystery unfolds. If God’s lips seem to curl at the corners into a faint smile as he urges me on toward the impossible, it may be because he plans to offer his moral strength at the very moment he shows me my moral weakness.
But if I didn’t first see my weakness, I might never accept his strength.
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