I have a love-hate relationship with the sun. I love it on cool, autumn days when it slices through the air temperature to warm my goose-bumped skin. I love it after a cold, dark winter when its rays bring with it the renewed life of spring. I love the way it tones my skin as I lounge and play under its long summer light. I love the way it sparkles off the gentle waves on a quiet lake. I love the way it paints the sky as it rises and sets. Without the sun our planet would be a frozen wasteland in which none could survive. Without its light our plants couldn't produce the oxygen which we breathe. I love it when it's good for me and meets my needs and pleasures.

But that very same sun burns my skin when I linger underneath it too long. I hate it when it turns summer days into a sweltering, sweaty sauna. I hate how it incessantly beats down its heat through the cloudless skies as I hike through the desert. I try to hide in the shade or the air conditioning, but it's always there with its perpetual blaze and its ultraviolet rays. When it makes me uncomfortable or irritated, I turn against my once celebrated ally.

But isn't this also how I treat God? I'm a huge fan when it suits me and meets my needs and makes me feel comfortable and accepted. But when things aren't going my way or I feel like I can do fine on my own, I'm content to live without Him. Not literally without Him. Certainly He continues to uphold me and provide for me despite my traitorous betrayal, which only credits His faithfulness. But I live practically without Him. I forget to pray, or purposefully don't waste the time. I lose sight of His subtle, sovereign workings and attribute them to my own ingenuity or happy coincidence. I turn against the very source of life when in reality He's what I need the most. I'm reminded how fickle my affections really are. I'm reminded how quickly forgetful I can be. I'm reminded that my greatest consistency is my inconsistency. The part that I hate the most is the love-hate relationship.