Peter turned around and saw the disciple whom Jesus loved following them. (This was the disciple who had leaned back against Jesus’ chest at the meal and asked, “Lord, who is the one who is going to betray you.”) (John 21:20)
Knowing that Jesus was God incarnate, he shocks my notion of a distant Creator. I’m astounded he took children in his arms, let his feet be stroked with a sinful woman’s hair, and invited disciples to lean on his breast. I didn't expect this demonstration of intimate contact. It reminds me of the ancient stone architecture found in South America.
The Incas built walls using one hundred ton, angular stones that interlocked like jigsaw pieces. How the Indians maneuvered, shaped, and fitted the monoliths so closely that a razor blade can’t fit between them remains a mystery. About four kilometers away, archeologists have identified the quarry from which the blocks were hewn in the rough before dressing and fitting.
God found me buried deep inside the stone mountain of the world system. His generous eye measured out some potential in my raw form. By the work of the cross, he cut me free from the carnal mass in which I was forged. I was born anew, a being with a holy destiny. Yet, I was jagged and crude. Only God knew where I needed chipping so I might one day fit against the Cornerstone with absolute contact.
My edges still prevent me from nesting against my soul’s lover, and so the refinement continues. But the Lord is not forcing me into some mass-produced cube, so I’ll fit with the others. He wants the unique facets he created in me to interlock with him, for therein lies ultimate joy. He craves a surface to surface bond, so close no razor blade of unfulfillment can slip between us.
I yearn for that, too, and so I submit to the chisel.
Prayer: Thank you, Lord, for creating me for intimate contact with perfect you.