I think I have something to say, but I’m not sure what it is. It has to do with God, and us, and the short blip on the radar of eternity that is our lives here on Earth. It has to do with making it count, making it matter, touching eternity with the ripple effect of our lives cast into the waters of history. There’s something just beyond the horizon…just outside of my grasp…like the memory of a dream that has mostly faded, leaving only vague impressions of emotions. I think it’s the certainty that there is more to life than endless laundry, arguing children, making something (anything!) for dinner, and the constant to-do lists that are always bigger than the energy I have with which to complete them. There’s a thirst inside me that can’t be quenched by water, although it’s soothed somewhat by a cup of tea with a friend; there’s a hunger I cannot fill with food (though every day I give it the old college try); there’s a longing for something I can’t quite put my finger on, but every once in a while the veil between me and eternity is torn and I catch a glimpse of what’s beyond me. What’s infinitely bigger than me. What is at once mysterious and beautiful; out-of-reach and yet within my grasp; what is both known and unknown.
It involves both something ugly and something stunningly beautiful. There’s an old, rugged wooden cross, that ancient instrument of torture and death, that is stained with blood. There are five-inch-long metal nails and thorny vines twisted into a headpiece. There is a sign, both mocking and true, about the King of the Jews. There is Death laughing and Sin winning and family crying.
That’s not all I see beyond me.
I see blinding, pure, glorious Light. I see a Man who is God who is gloriously alive and whose hands are scarred from five-inch-long metal nails. I see a beautiful face whose gaze is not bitter or condemning, but full of compassion. I see Sin losing and Grace winning. I see joy, truth, redemption, revelation, and rescue. I see a huge Man who is God who is holy and approachable, awe-inspiring and gentle, full of both justice and grace. I see a holy, eternal plan that was set in motion before the foundations of the world and continues today with ever-growing, far-reaching impact – like a snowball rolling downhill, gaining size and momentum with every rotation. He reaches his hand out to me gently, lovingly, and invites me to join him in his plan.
Me? He wants me? This is where my mind is blown. I’m humbled. I can’t do anything right, I don’t have the strength, the talents, the time.
Of course you don’t, he says. But I do. And I’m generous. And I have all you need, and so much more. Come. Be with Me. Get to know Me. And then just see if you can keep Me to yourself, or if you are compelled to tell everyone you know about me.
And this glimpse of eternity, of an eternal plan, of a God who was man, it rocks my world. It changes me. It makes me want more. I’m hungry. I’m thirsty. I’m needy. And I realize that this glimpse into eternity is the first thing that has assuaged that hunger and thirst. This communion with a revolutionary God who did everything differently from how we imagined he would has changed me forever. I want more.
More of Him.
More…glimpses of eternity.