I am jealous of a statue.
It lives on a table in the Iris Room of Belmont UMC. I should call it a table decor rather than a statue, as it sits 6-8 inches tall and fits comfortably in my two hands. The gold-colored figurine has large wings and sits on its rear while hugging its knees to its chest. Its head is cocked to the left and rests on its knees. This little gold angel looks so peaceful, so quiet and content sitting at the feet of Jesus and soaking in all that God has to say.
Thus begins my jealousy. I see this angel during my hour of sitting still before God. I should not call it an hour because when I leave I look at my car's clock and notice it has been only 30 minutes. I should not call it sitting still before God, either. I fidget. I pull out my Bible. I put it down. I pull my coat over my legs because I'm cold. I get into prayer posture. I stare at the angel. I take my coat off of my legs because I'm getting warm. I ramble to God about why I can't just sit still. I pick up the Bible again. I memorize Scripture but get frustrated because I'm not being quiet . . . I process the text with words running through my head. I glare at the angel. I think to myself that one hour must be complete. I look desperately at the angel one more time, but it doesn't look back. It's resting, smiling, content being still before God. I gather my things and leave.
Well, obviously the angel is still for the rest of its life because it has no coat to pull over its legs and, well, it just will never move. But if it were real, I believe it might sit that way anyway all of the time before God.
And so the angel is both my nemesis and my role model.