200 miracles.

"For his gifts, and his call, are irrevocable." 

That's the answer he gave me.

Standing in worship last weekend, so pissed with God. Quietly rioting against the very idea of worship. Asking questions like, "Are you real?" and "Why aren't you saying anything?!" and "Why are you letting this happen?" and "Did all of this -- my salvation, my story -- mean anything really?" and "Are you still the God I put my trust in so long ago?" 

"For his gifts, and his call, are irrevocable." 

I don't remember where that's from (Romans? Hebrews?), and I don't remember when I first heard it or claimed it for myself. But it was a powerful verse for me in my early days at James River, when I was making the journey from the faith I had, to the more powerful one I found there. 

So when I heard it again last weekend, I recognized it. Like a familiar voice, calling out from the path ahead of me. 

I was asking God if he was still the same God, but I think what I was really wanting to know is if I am still the same. Am I too far out of his grace? Too distant from his love? Too skeptical for his church? Too broken for his mercy? 

But his gifts, and his call -- they're irrevocable. I'm not too anything. 

I pressed in, asking him to do just one miracle, show me just one sign that he's still with me, that it's all going to be okay. I heard his voice again, this time it said, "I've done you two hundred miracles in this very room, and you're asking me can I do just one?" 

Of course. 

Lord, I believe, but help me to believe.