i write about God a lot. i write so i will know him more.
but there comes a time when i need to stop writing. and it happened last week while i was listening to Sons and Daughters’ Your Glory. i was sitting in my easy chair, the christmas tree alight and the children asleep and peace on earth, except i wanted more. i always want more. i’m a good-news junkie.
so i stop typing, i close my eyes and i raise my hands, listening to Sons and Daughters and in my mind, i see God’s light, a luminous light pooling like butter on the ground and there i am, running around outside the scope of that light, following flickers, pale white flashlight-flickers like fame and fortune and people’s opinions of me.
and more often than not for all of my running i’m left in the dark. and right there, in my living room, i put my face in my hands and asked God to help me step into his light, into his glory, and to stop worrying about what other people think. to stop letting humanity define my eternal worth. because bones don’t make the soul.
i sat there in my brown housecoat, Sons and Daughters singing and my eyes closed and face in my hands and then, the light shifted. God’s glory. it moved, and it came to rest upon me.
i didn’t have to.do.anything. i just had to ask. God wants to give us everything. why do we find it so hard to believe he loves us? to let him love us? maybe because the world tells us we’re only as good as the mother on the screen, or the wife in the church pew, or the size of our jeans?
and i realized in that moment of God coming to rest on me in my living room that this is what he did at Christmas. he came to us. he knew we couldn’t get to him. we couldn’t do enough good to reach him. so he did the completely unexpected, and came as a defenseless infant into a room that was a barn.
talk about feeling like a failure. i wonder if mary doubted herself. if she doubted God’s calling on her life to be the son of God’s mother, because she gave birth in a pile of straw and manure.
the Bible doesn’t talk about that, but i think we can be reassured that she chased those flashlight-flickers too… until she held Jesus in his arms and felt the strength of the universe in his muscles and saw the love of God in his old-soul eyes and felt God’s pleasure shake the barn rafters.
and again, God’s glory found Mary and Jesus and Joseph in that barn. angels on the roof, lighting up the night in a chorus of hallelujah.
so i’m going into this new year slowly, because i don’t want to step out of God’s glory. i don’t want to stop feeling his pleasure. i want to let him provide for me, and sing over me.
and i want to draw my children close and let them feel God’s glory too.