The Word

I ask God to teach me so I go to His Word.
The Word.

It’s not long before I’m painfully aware.
Aware that my filter is me and that I am not trustworthy
To properly handle (on my own) the truth and power that I hold in my hands.
I look. I read.
Only to become bewildered, overwhelmed, overburdened with the scope of my own lack
and (what I perceive to be) the Word’s requirements.

Stop.
Ask.
Breathe.
Wait.
Quiet.

And remember.

Remember that He is here, and He is not silent.
He is a thunder that sounds and feels and electrifies spaces in power (words are not all).
But His is not a cacophonous presence.
Sometimes whispering, sometimes gently nudging,
He is One Who Is and is wholly part of all and through all.
The Creator of all and the beginning and ending of all things.
(Things may preserve some tiny autonomy for a time, but one day He will consume all this.) Such power is to be feared, revered, humbly looked upon, wondered at, and duly worshipped:
He is the resonating timbre of life-giving beauty
and Presence
Such as is found in no other source.
He is The One from Whom all life-giving beauty comes.
He is the culmination, the End and Beginning of all things good and hope-full.

And oh, to call Him Father and Lord! (I whisper it but for the wonder.)
That such as this would come to me, to us. That such terrible wonderful omniscience would condescend to that which may add unto Him nothing at all.
That such power could – would – come and wrap me up, warm me through, draw me on fully supported in all tenderness and with such intimate affection, such real concern, such active participation, such attentiveness, such redemption!
Even in – especially in – the throes of such wretchedness, such littleness, such self-inflated importance, such forgetfulness, such self-absorption and all the rest of the stinking mess…

Blessedly, it shrinks.
(I shrink)

And then tremble
And pause in wonder

And then…smile quiet as He bids me be free.

Freedom remembered is a celebrated, lived-wholly-and-holy life.
Life is different with such love –
His Love.
For this meeting, this coming, this faithful helping, holding, showing, teaching, drawing, reminding, changing-us love is what’s needed.
Bothering with those who do not deserve it – continuing to bother – is what changes everything. Changes things back to how things were created to be:

Free.
And free in and free to
Love.

My thoughts about it all – His Word, my self – are not His thoughts.
And so,
I return to the Word. Different.

Better.
(And hoping to become better still.)
Better because my gaze has been, is, and by His grace will continue to be, righted back
To the One who’s greater than all else.
I’m turned back with eyes to see The Word that was with God, that was God, that is God,
To be transformed by the renewing of my mind.
To carry within me the Word made flesh that He may dwell within, with, and from me.

Because words are not just words; they are power.
Brought forth to give life and heal all who have forgotten their Source and who are willing to remember their Source.
And I pray to turn creation’s groans into songs…starting with mine, starting with The Word, starting with
Him.

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