Wednesday, July 28, 2010

That He Would Even Speak...Again

The sands continue to fall. The mythological golden thread shimmers in the sunlight, gleaming before the sheers that ever so slowly are descending upon it. So slowly, in fact, we don't notice that the blades come ever closer to cut and drain lifeblood.

We're comfortable with sand falling. It's all we know -- this life, this passage of time. Can we see beyond the transparent window of the hourglass? This vapor that won't last? The one that is described for us, even still, with the passing of time - here today, gone tomorrow? We are hard pressed to separate ourselves from time, the hourglass that traps us in quicksand.

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But the sand will stop falling. What then? What of before? Is this all there is? Sand falling, suspended in time and space, without meaning, no anchor to a larger purpose?

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth...Then God said, "Let there be light"; and there was light. God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light day, and the darkness He called night. And there was evening and there was morning, one day. (Genesis 1)

And sand began to fall.

And man, too, began to fall.

And man no longer heard what God said.

We smear the luminous hourglass with ourselves. The sin is selfish and proud. We see a masterpiece because it is our very own creation. We hang it between us and Creator and look for fulfillment.

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But it is mud and blocks our view of God.

It's dark now. We see only sand and each other. We are imprisoned on this spinning sphere of time and space God meant to be a dwelling place. We wiggle our toes down deep in the sand, make a go of it. The sand falls hypnotic; we succumb and are engrossed. We settle.

And it is so. We see all that we have made, and behold, it is very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the eighth day. And sand falls for a lifetime.

But there was something else in the beginning. Before the quicksand, the falling. Before our mud.
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God. And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth. (John 1)

God spoke his rescue. He doesn't whoosh in like a superhero, all glitz and flash. He comes to our imprisonment and He only speaks. After all we have done . . . he speaks his grace and truth. And his merciful Word cuts to the marrow of bone. Do we dare listen?

We re-created his world, made for ourselves darkness, called it good. We cut ourselves off, needing none other than self. Did it boldly, proudly. Needy, yet so stubborn.

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Even still, God speaks. That He even would a second time is unimaginable. Too much to ask.

But he is the God who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine. He speaks, and if we will but listen, we learn He is able to keep us from falling. The true Creator speaks light and life. All we must do is listen. And we must, because there is so much more beyond the hourglass.

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I am linking today's post in community with others who also chronicle their walk with Him.

holy experience

Photo Credits: My son, Adrian
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