I know my posts lately have been harping on this... but in order to move on, in order for our experience of "Getting to Know God" to truly be all that it can be... We have to get this. We have to make sure that we don't come to God lofty or too mellow.
We have to groan.
He is a radiant and wonderful being who does not need us, but wants us. He is a creator, the beginning and end of everything. He holds the atomic pieces of the universe together.
All wonder, uniqueness, and creativity flow from Him.
We look at this Son and see the God who cannot be seen. We look at this Son and see God’s original purpose in everything created. For everything, absolutely everything, above and below, visible and invisible, rank after rank after rank of angels—everything got started in him and finds its purpose in him. He was there before any of it came into existence and holds it all together right up to this moment. And when it comes to the church, he organizes and holds it together, like a head does a body.
He was supreme in the beginning and—leading the resurrection parade—he is supreme in the end. From beginning to end he’s there, towering far above everything, everyone. So spacious is he, so roomy, that everything of God finds its proper place in him without crowding. Not only that, but all the broken and dislocated pieces of the universe—people and things, animals and atoms—get properly fixed and fit together in vibrant harmonies, all because of his death, his blood that poured down from the cross.And so...
You yourselves are a case study of what he does. At one time you all had your backs turned to God, thinking rebellious thoughts of him, giving him trouble every chance you got. But now, by giving himself completely at the Cross, actually dying for you, Christ brought you over to God’s side and put your lives together, whole and holy in his presence. You don’t walk away from a gift like that! You stay grounded and steady in that bond of trust, constantly tuned in to the Message, careful not to be distracted or diverted. There is no other Message—just this one. Every creature under heaven gets this same Message. I, Paul, am a messenger of this Message.
I want you to know how glad I am that it’s me sitting here in this jail and not you. There’s a lot of suffering to be entered into in this world—the kind of suffering Christ takes on. I welcome the chance to take my share in the church’s part of that suffering. When I became a servant in this church, I experienced this suffering as a sheer gift, God’s way of helping me serve you, laying out the whole truth.
This mystery has been kept in the dark for a long time, but now it’s out in the open. God wanted everyone, not just Jews, to know this rich and glorious secret inside and out, regardless of their background, regardless of their religious standing. The mystery in a nutshell is just this: Christ is in you, so therefore you can look forward to sharing in God’s glory. It’s that simple. That is the substance of our Message. We preach Christ, warning people not to add to the Message. We teach in a spirit of profound common sense so that we can bring each person to maturity. To be mature is to be basic. Christ! No more, no less. That’s what I’m working so hard at day after day, year after year, doing my best with the energy God so generously gives me.
- Colossians 1:15-29 The Message
...We groan to know Him deeper.
Better. More intimately... uniquely, wonderfully.
Let's just sit in awe of our great and wonderful creator who is so different and so holy and so 'other' than us... yet chooses for us to get to know him.
---
All of creation groans.
“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” -Romans 8:18-25
This verse has been echoing in my mind lately. It talks of God’s creation in such a lively, visual tone, and it taints my view of creation in such a beautiful way.
Wind so soft when it brushes my skin that it nearly feels like water being draped onto me.
Weaving through leaves of trees.
Caressing each branch, grazing every inch of bark with infinite care, infinite carelessness.
Bursting through the dirt and dust, brushing it into the air, slowly, into streams of the breeze.
Beauty in slow motion. I wish I could press pause.
Inexhaustible fields of harlequin blooms, of life.
Blinding yellow glory melting into the impressionistic ocean waves.
Messy.
Imperfect.
Lovely.
Perfection.
Fish and creatures of every variation, size, width, shape, color, texture, all just beneath the unruffled surface. Inches below what is seemingly perfection at the surface lies life. It’s as if we’ve forgotten the depth of the ocean simply because we can only see the surface without grazing upon danger.
I look out at the wind tussling the trees, as if it’s stroking it’s branches with both the utmost care and utmost carelessness. I wonder, I wonder just maybe, if it’s groaning.
I see a glimpse of a flower blooming amidst a field of a beautiful variety of flowers, see it’s petals slowly wiggle out, fight to break free of waiting to taste the sunshine firsthand, kiss the wind with it’s own lips.
And I’m just amazed!
Then the sky, the sun, the stars, the moon…and oh, so much glory to behold with such average eyes!…soon I wonder if each time the sun grazes another part of the world, if it’s groaning in anticipation, begging our Father for liberation soon, asking if today would be the day to taste heaven’s honey come to earth. Is this the place, now the time? I can’t help but wonder if, even while the sun’s rays seem to first stream down to earth, if first and foremost they flood to heaven’s gates and sing their praises to God.
And I wonder if each time the moon lights our gothic paths, if it’s groaning, waiting, wandering, looking for sons and daughters to be revealed, or rather, to reveal themselves. Or maybe it’s singing praises to our Father, summoning the rest of creation that seems to be asleep to join in. Or maybe it’s just content to rest in knowing the fingerprints of God smudge it’s surface in the most content way.
And then, then the weeping clouds. I can’t help but think of each storm, each lightning strike and each thunder clap, as intimate and desperate groaning, as if all of creation desires Jesus to come back, yet still subdues to His ways and kneels to His will. And I wonder if creation is sighing as we continue to flaw it, if it’s crying as we kill it’s perfection to make it perfect in our eyes, if it’s smiling as we tend to it, or moreover, if God is doing all of these things. I wonder if it’s laughing as we spend time with it, delighting in being delighted in by a sliver of a true child of God.
I’ve fallen in love with the beauty of creation. All of it. All of it’s imperfection in all of it’s glory is so…perfect. Every speck of dirt and every imperfect cloud in the sky…perfect. Fallen and broken, of course, but beautiful. I see the art in the bark of a tree, how it looks so solid but is really so many monochromatic layers, one after another, one crumbling layer after another. And I’m enthralled…truly captivated by an enthralling Creator.
I see each sky’s unique and gentle showcase, as if God took a paint brush and breathed color into each stroke of his finger, and I see endless, countless stars at night, as if God kissed the night and sparks flew and landed scattered around the moon. And I’m breathless…truly breathless from a breathtaking Creator.
I enjoy the grass, each and every blade slightly it’s own, tilting it’s own way. I’ve even begun to enjoy the bugs. The bugs, though many sting, no longer impersonate an enemy but more of a friend. I’ve fallen in love with how it’s overlooked and ignored, as if it’s a secret, a mystery, only awaiting those who are willing to open their eyes to it - “it” being every ounce of creation and nature that our Father so carefully created along with us. With us! Sometimes I forget that the same fingerprints of God overlapping on such enthralling creation overlap on each and every one of us. Maybe it’s just that much easier for us to recognize everyone’s and
everything’s beauty but our own.
I’ve fallen in love with the way it seems like the trees are laughing with the wind, the way the clouds literally seem to be sobbing in the storm, the way the dirt serves as a constant and steady reminder of the most basic beauty we disregard. Maybe I sound crazy, like a tree-hugger or psycho environmentalist who thinks flowers have feelings and skies can cry. But when I let the dirt cover my fingers and streak my hands and feet, and when I’m submerged in the beauty of nature in it’s most natural and simple form, even though it is broken as well, I can’t help but feel a connection. A rejuvenation, revitalization, a come-to-your-senses moment where things are right, even though they’re imperfect and broken. Creation, fallen and broken as it is, is still so beautiful, such a gift. A breath of heaven colored with nature. All of creation bows before Him, waits for Him, praises Him, groans for Him. Groans for US, sons and daughters of God, to be revealed. And I can’t help but fall in love with it because, you know, I think God loves it a whole lot too.
----
Holly Fohr
Read Holly's other post here.
