… and thus to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God. (Ephesians 3:19)
The breeze tickled the surface of the lake, gained the shore, and made the bare oak trees giggle. It blew across my upturned face, and I praised the Lord for another day of his living gifts.
How could it be that I sinned daily, yet my heavenly Father rushed to forgive, pulled me to his heart, and promised heaven? Astounding. I was adopted through grace, and joy swirled about me, taking the form of the morning wind.
The breeze continued until it reached the dock, and pressed a man shivering in his wheelchair. He looked empty.
“I’m stuck here, and can’t go up the hill.” He pointed to a dilapidated trailer.
“I’ll push, but may I pray for you first?” I said.
“Oh, you’re religious are you?”
I explained that religion was manmade, I had friendship with Jesus. He consented to prayer, but as I opened my heart to heaven, the middle aged cast-off stared like I was some other species.
“Wow, I wish I could pray like that,” the empty man said.
When I stop to ponder on the truth that Jesus purchased my place in God’s family, then even the lakeside breeze becomes holy to me. It enters my heart with love that surpasses knowledge until I burst with all the fullness of God.
But when apathy seduces me into taking my adoption for granted, or even doubting it, the holy wind rushes out of me. I become like the empty man. The difference between full and empty is a single breath of the love of Jesus.
Prayer: Sweet Savior, I inhale your sacrificial love.