It has happened to me before but it always catches me by surprise. I read something that takes me deeper into the knowledge of Christ; who He is; what He accomplished, and all that entails for me right here and right now, etc. I’m so taken aback I either close the book and sit in it. Or I close the book and physically get up and move somewhere.
And so it was today. The little man had been sleeping since I arrived and I always take advantage of that time to read. The sun is reflecting like diamonds off the snow. The soft music wafting its way through the otherwise quiet house. I had been eating my lunch so was sitting at the kitchen table. That’s where I read the words. Immediately I closed the book and walked to another spot in the room. As if my whole self is running from and cowering from it. It shows my humanity and I am unable to bear the brunt of the weight and signficance of Him.
He is still there. With me. He does not leave. He never has. He knows what we can and cannot bear; His glory, compared to our humanity, is one thing we cannot handle in large (or small) doses. But He does not leave us when we feel it. He stays. He may sit on the opposite side of the room; giving us space. He may hold the visor to shield our eyes from the terrifyingly beautiful brightness; these eyes that had become so accustomed to the dark. He may sit next to us, full of truth and grace and quiet, allowing us time to process what He just revealed. Whichever. He stays. He does not leave. He never has.
This is my experience. Looking in the rear-view mirror of my life I see this to be true. even now; on my worst day. In and through the decades of running and cowering and denying with all the hurt and pain and anger I held so tightly within. In and through the present day, when I wrestle with the questions and doubts and fears that His grace really is conditional and I can’t meet the condition and therefore I’ve been uninvited to the party. He was there. He is there. Oh sure I didn’t know it at the time. Some things you can only know in the looking back. And so it is today. He continuously and relentlessly reminds me of it.
This is the message of my life. The voice you cannot quiet. The story my heart longs to tell the least of these, whomever they may be. I will tell it as long as He gives me breath.
He is there. He did not leave. He never has.