Infinite love (in which I consider immeasurable grace and mercy)

[Musings from the world of summer camp.]

Day 5 it is. Day last. The day 350+ middle schoolers clamber onto busses and pile into vans to head homeward, away from a place that (dear God, this is our prayer) has breathed love, peace, joy, and ridiculous amounts of fun, minute by minute, hour by hour, day in and day out.

It is always hard to say goodbye. Five days, you see, is long enough to connect, to care, to know, and to love.

If we – who have spent such a short amount of time with them – can feel this way, how must the people in their daily lives feel about them? More importantly, how must the Creator of the Universe, the Almighty God, the Loving Father feel?

That is the real question, isn’t it? What does God Almighty think of humanity? Think of that guy? Think of that girl? Think of them? Think of me??

Regardless of how advanced our theories are, how far our science has progressed, how instantaneously our technology connects, there are things we cannot know about God. Because he is God. Almighty. Omnipotent. Majestic.

Butthere is this that can be known, without a doubt, with confident joy:

God Almighty, the Omnipotent Creator, the Majestic Lord…LOVES. Period. Loves unto his own incarnated death. Loves beyond his own divine resurrection. Loves through times of pain. Loves in places of brokenness.

God Almighty – breathtaking Creator of a breathtaking universe – finds us…finds him…finds her…finds them…finds me

…breathtaking. Simply and utterly and totally breathtaking. Period.

Which means he loves enough to rescue, to save, to offer real life, and to make all things new. And he does, indeed, make things new for those who choose to follow him, even the lives of middle-schoolers. Especially the lives of middle-schoolers.

BUT – and this is so very important – his love is not restricted to only those who love him in return. His love is not limited to only those who call him Father. His love is not poured out on only those who seek his face.

This much we know of God, this much we believe, this much we profess, this much we embrace:

His love is for all, those who want to be made new and those who do not. Those who confess him as Lord, and those who do not. Those who follow him closely, and those who do not. Indeed, he patiently, longingly, faithfully, and passionately waits for all, seeks all, and pursues all. Period.

We can only marvel: what wondrous love is this, oh my soul, oh my soul?

Middle schoolers. Made new. (Photo: CKirgiss)
Middle schoolers. Made new. (Photo: CKirgiss)

 

 

Miniature miracles

During the past five weeks, this blog has been silent for all kinds of reasons. Important reasons. Significant reasons. Meaningful reasons.

Reasons that amount to less-than-piffle in the grand scheme of the grand universe, a grandness that is often best realized in the most un-grand of places during the most un-grand of times, say, the lawn’s border bushes at 9:07 on a Sunday morning.

Morning dew (Photo: CKirgiss)
Webbed dew (Photo: CKirgiss)
Webbed dew (Photo: CKirgiss)
Webbed dew (Photo: CKirgiss)

During the past five weeks, I finished a dissertation. Defended a dissertation. Was hooded by an esteemed academic.

. . . while each morning, the dew fell to the ground, landing on leaf and rock and web alike, a miniature miracle reflecting God’s power, creativity, and joy.

All of which had absolutely nothing to do with my significant, important, and meaningful things.

Not even the tiniest bit.

What manner of grace is this that God would (does) allow a world full of supremely legit, significant, important, and meaningful folk enjoy, revel in, and (if all goes well) be humbled by the drops with which he paints the morning ground in a dazzling splendor of diamond dew?

What manner, indeed.

The silence brought on by significant, important, and meaningful busyness (whether we like it or not) does nothing more than reveal the empty spaces and confused graces of our lives.

The silence embodied in God’s elegant, astounding, and breathtaking creation (if we allow it) fills our empty spaces with unspeakable joy and boundless hope.

Of these two silences, the world esteems the first and disdains the second.

I choose the second.