A Paradox

It's one of those things that I've always struggled with and a friend showed me something she had written that really made me stop and smile and ponder the paradox once again...

The little girl peeked into the room - eyes wide. And she was right to be amazed, for she was looking into the very throne room of God Almighty! All around she saw angels, cherubim, seraphim and other beings whose only task was to glorify God. They were fantastic to behold and so totally foreign to the little girl that she shrunk back. Then she saw what they were doing. All of the array of angels and creatures in the little girl's view were doing exactly the same thing - they were bowing down and crying out, "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty!" 

Finally the little girl's attention was caught by the one she'd come looking for. On His throne that I looked as if it were made of sapphire was God Almighty, the Creator of heaven and earth, and He was beckoning to her. The little girl squealed and ran to Him - heedless of the countless others in the room. The Lord laughed as He called her name and scooped her up in His arms. His voice - like the sound of rushing water - and her little bell-like laugh blended into each other to create one of His favourite sounds - Joy and Love. "I love you, my little princess," He said as He sat back down, still holding her in His arms. His attention was all hers as she smiled up into His face. "I love you too," she replied as she snuggled into His lap - completely content.

{by Bethany Unrau}

Come in awe and yet with confidence... what a mystery.

One that we're called to revel in. 

In Easter

Just as I wrote about in my last post, recently I've been learning a lot about what it means to be not enough.

And as I headed home for Easter weekend, I fell under the illusion (as I have a tendency to do) that God is chained to the places that I've encountered Him.

So often I can come into His presence with greater ease when it's a familiar place that when entered brings back memories of lessons in the past that He's taught me.

As a result, when I switch places, I have to go through the whole mental game of reminding myself that He is with me everywhere I go.

The weekend was great. But as I entered church on Easter Sunday morning, I was feeling dimly lit, as if I hadn't encountered God the way that I wanted to during this season. As if I couldn't feel Him.

But as the service went by, it was if the common thread of His lessons to me recently was whispered in my head over and over again.

Easter is all about not being enough. 

The reason He came? The reason He died?

I am not enough. But He is.

There is no way that I can face a holy God with anything in my hands that would convince Him to let me near His perfectness.

I am filth from the inside out, coated in the molasses texture of sins that I have deluded myself are not really that bad.

Coming into His presence while those drip off of me and pollute the white halls of His holiness?

Not going to happen.

And so He sent His Son. The only One who was enough.

That One who is everything, became nothing so that I might become whole.

And as we dyed Easter eggs, turning them from white to scribbled with hope,

I realized afresh how He takes one life and not only justifies (declares not guilty),

but in His good will, chooses to sanctify that life.

Taking the little moments of each day, the trials and the heartache, the joys and delights,

And crafts each on of us into something that He delights in.

Something that brings Him glory.

I am not enough. I could never do this on my own.

But He can. And He does.

And that's why there's Easter.