And is kind of like how I feel about my roommate's cat.
I love this stupid thing. Her name is Gabby. Gabby has done nothing to deserve my affection. In fact, quite frequently, the cat goes out of her way to be aggravating. She claws at the carpet, meows loudly and for no good reason, and regularly gallops up and down the hallway as though she's spent the past five minutes rolling around in catnip or cocaine. Often, she forgets I exist and completely ignores me, no matter how I call to her.
And then other days, she loves me. She lets me pet her and play with her, and show her how glad I am that we're sharing the same living space. She'll rub her head up against me and twist about between my legs, and lets me know that she's glad I'm here, too.
How often do we treat God like that? How often do we simply acknowledge his presence, and then turn our tails and walk away if we don't need anything at the moment? We mistreat his earth and his people. And then, when we feel like it, we let him know that we love him. We give our praise and our amens, and sometimes even do things for him in the form of mission and outreach. Sometimes we even go out of our way to say thank you.
I am exactly like the stupid cat. No matter what she does, or how much furniture she shreds or how much fur she sheds, I will always pet the cat if she asks.
And Gods loves us no matter what the circumstance. Whether we treat him like he's the only thing in our universe or whether we go out and behave in a manner completely unbecoming to a child of God; he still loves us.
He's glad we're in the same living space.
And that's a comforting thought.