“Things that no eye has seen, or ear heard, or mind imagined, are the things God has prepared for those who love him.” God has revealed these to us by the Spirit. (1 Corinthians 2:9-10)
My kayak was a mile from the shore in Washington State when twin rushes of air erupted three hundred feet away. Two orca whales surfaced to check me out. My heart pounded as I took in every bend and scar on the triangular fins on their backs. The magnificent creatures dove again and I made an adrenaline pumped race into their swirling water.
Then it hit me. I only saw the dorsal fins and not the three ton animals below the waterline. Alone in the open water, I didn’t want to bump into orcas, only to see more dorsals.
I often approach the crucifixion of Jesus like I approached those whales. I accept the historical facts of his death and resurrection, but I flee from an encounter that could destroy the old me. A safe dose of forgiveness at the surface is fine, but don’t take me down to where my heart must change.
Instead of paddling in the shallows of worship styles and pew designs, it’s time to plunge into the fullness of what happened on the cross. By the discipline of meditation on the gospel, the Holy Spirit carries my heart to depths where I can’t depend on intellect alone, to where love becomes the medium around me, and the reality that God died for men is shocking in its enormity.
Below the waterline of grace, I can’t contribute to salvation. I’m not capable of defending myself or of even breathing down there. I can only gape at how big is his mercy. Flailing sinner that I am, I lose every hope of survival except by the beneficence of the whale before me.
That perfect sinless creature might easily swallow me. Instead, he nudges me back to the surface. When I break through I have something new, not more head knowledge but more love. For who can encounter that majestic entity, be spared by him, and not love in return?