- Details
- Written by: Don Goulding
I saw the glory of the God of Israel coming from the east; the sound was like that of rushing water; and the earth radiated his glory. (Ezekiel 43:2)
I faced the eastern sky. The confusion of the night was nearly over. There were signs that made hope dissolve into reality. Thin clouds reddened like a bashful girl. They swirled in the clash between the cursed night and the joyous day.
Paul says, “For we groan while we are in this tent,” until “what is mortal may be swallowed up by life” (2 Cor. 5:4).
These blood touched wisps were caught between groaning and singing. Likewise, our groaning awakens our voices for the song to come.
I faced the eastern sky. Now I stared into a red so loud I wondered what more God could say to assure the Son’s coming. Behind me the horizon was black, people slumbered, and evil prevailed. Facing that way provided no indication of the miracle that unfolded, so I set my gaze on the east. I strained toward where the Son was expected, where the lover of my soul would materialize. I stretched toward the promise, and now, there it was, this red groaning sign.
I faced the eastern sky. Logic told me warmth from Sol’s amber beams wouldn’t be felt for a while, but it also said the ruby flower at the bottom of the night meant he was coming. God’s Spirit, pining in me for our broken world, is the red break in the night of my spirit. It’s my guarantee that the Son, even now, rises in the east with a voice like rushing waters and a radiance that bathes the land with his glory.
Prayer: Arise. Arise to shine, Lord Jesus.
- Details
- Written by: Don Goulding
Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink, or about your body, what you will wear… And which of you by worrying can add even one hour to his life? (Matthew 6:25-27),
I held the penny by its edge to cover up the sun. Then I moved it away from my eye until yellow streaks burst around the edges. My childhood game amused me because I could block the giant sun with a small coin.
Now I’m a grown-up soul, holding the penny of worry in front of my eye and lamenting, “Woe is me, the sun has gone dark.” Limited creature that I am, whatever is held before me consumes me. When some trial becomes the specimen of choice, it masks all view of the blinding goodness of the Lord. In reality, no matter how disastrous my trial appears, compared to Christ, it’s a little penny.
The words of Jesus solve my error of perception. He draws the penny away, saying, “Peace I leave with you…do not be afraid,” (Jn. 14:27).
I repeat that, until the sun blasts around the penny’s edge.
“I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls,” (Matt. 11:29).
Now the penny is looking small, the sun large.
“’Peace be with you…’ And with that he breathed on them and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit,’” (Jn. 20:21, 22).
I lower the obstruction and let my arms fall limp.
I falsely inflate my own importance, and therefore, the significance of my hurts. Looking at Jesus, I’m smitten with the reality that life is not about me or my pain. It’s about him—Jesus, bursting with light—Jesus, with love joy that leaves blind spots before my eyes—Jesus, the Commander of the universe, who sings me to sleep.
For now, I must keep the coin of suffering, but there’s no need to press it against my eye and block out the Son.
Prayer: Jesus, help me focus on you, not on trials.
- Details
- Written by: Don Goulding
I tell you the solemn truth, the one who hears my message and believes the one who sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned, but has crossed over from death to life. (John 5:24)
We live on the overlap. Amidst the expanse of existence, God holds a fabric with three-dimensional patterns of iridescent colors, set against a field of purest white. At the fabric’s edge, there’s a brief overlap of his enemy’s repulsive cloth. The textiles stretch side by side, one hem overlying the other, and we now live on the narrow overlap.
Here on the mixed fringes, we enjoy hints of spiritual gifts fully available to those who have stepped beyond and onto the bright cloth. Love, joy, peace—we witness muddy reflections of the luminescent graces in which they are bathed.
The borderland also holds the results of sin’s curse. The pain we experience is a sample of what the enemies of God will permanently suffer. For now, we’re caught on the introductions of two eternities, that we might learn to love the cloth of light, and recoil from the fabric of sin.
Our years on the overlap are necessary. Here the black fabric can horrify our souls. Our Father hates that anti existence, and he would have us see it for what it is. Let us be indelibly chiseled with the knowledge of what our future would have been without Christ.
We are to blame. We created the dark cloth when we misused our free will, and chose that which is not God, when we chose sin. But rather than point his finger, God gave us the overlap. He gave us the opportunity to learn the differences between our fabric and his, and to choose one for our eternal home before they fly apart.
Prayer: Gracious Father, I choose your perfect fabric, I choose you.