Tangled up with God

One of my friends is posting brief (and beautiful) Advent reflections each day on Facebook. A couple of days ago she wrote a bit about what might ensue if we get tangled up with God. I loved her image of us entangled with God, of God choosing to become entangled with us. Not God serenely dwelling within Mary, or within us, but God mixing it up with his people. Not God in a tabernacle, but out and about where the paths can be muddy, the ways steep, the risks many. 

The reflection I wrote for yesterday in the little Advent book talked about how Jesus is rather literally entangled with the physical world. The atoms and molecules he breathed and ate and drank, the very stuff that made up his body, is now entangled in the air we breathe, the water we drink, the wood of the cross I lift above my head and carry into the church. It's a staggering reality, I said. But so too is the reality that we are tangled up in God in our hearts, our minds and our souls. We cannot extricate ourselves from this tangle.