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- Written by: Don Goulding
Then I heard every creature - in heaven, on earth, under the earth, in the sea, and all that is in them - singing:
“To the one seated on the throne and to the Lamb
be praise, honor, glory, and ruling power forever and ever!”
And the four living creatures were saying “Amen,” and the elders threw themselves to the ground and worshiped. (Revelation 5:13, 14)
In the midst of worship, I sometimes wonder to which part of the Trinity I should pray. Will I offend God by exclusive devotion to his Son? How does it make Father and Son feel when I only yearn for the Spirit’s presence?
If I peek into the Holy of Holies (Ezk. 3:12; Heb. 1:3; Rev. 22:1), my concern is exposed as needless human anxiety. All three share the same throne, side by side. The three in one—God the Father, Jesus the Son, Holy Spirit—perfect harmony, intertwined unity, eternal accord. Any praise to one is absorbed with joy by all three. By their unity, I am freed to worship as I will.
I can best picture Jesus. So without holding back, I hurl my being before his feet. Jesus, the object of my yearning, and of everything I hope to encounter. I see him standing amidst his many lovers, billowing robe crossed by a sash of gold—a perfect Son of Man with flaming-white hair lofting around a face of rainbow luminescence (Rev. 1:12-16; Ezk. 1:26-28). It’s a mental image worth holding onto until it melts into reality.
On the day of my completion, I’ll be a butterfly freed of its wormy cocoon. I’ll soar up to the dais, and drink in the supernova radiance of the triune God. Comprehension of the unity between the Father, Jesus and the Holy Spirit will, at last, penetrate me as brilliant points of light.
Prayer: God, I throw myself on the ground to worship you, through Jesus.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
But he lifted up our illnesses,
he carried our pain… (Isaiah 53:4)
I know what to do with that grief. Come with me.
Set your pain in this basket and hold it in front of you. We’re walking up the steps to Jesus’s throne. He looks at what you brought him and a tear plots its course down his cheek. With his hand next to yours on the basket, you share mute sorrow over what lies inside.
“I cannot take this basket away. Not yet. I can carry it with you.” He stares into the distance. “I can foresee the outcome. This tragedy won’t touch you. And I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
The next best thing to having no troubles is assurance that they cannot harm us. We have to endure, for now. We may lose worldly wealth, health, and prestige, but none of these is the real person anyway. The true you, your spirit, flourishes. The waters do not sweep over the real you, the flames do not set your inner heart ablaze. You, are protected.
Who is it that makes these bold promises? It is Jesus, by and for whom all things were created. It is Jesus, the One given all authority in heaven and earth. It is Jesus, who, since the day you gave your life to him, has not stopped watching over you.
“My hand is on our basket. Yes, it’s our basket. Take heart, I am with you.”
Prayer: Lord Jesus, whisper confidence into desperate ears.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
For now we see in a mirror indirectly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know in part, but then I will know fully, just as I have been fully known. (1 Corinthians 13:12)
The periodical cicadas of North America spend seventeen years in the ground as nymphs. Then, in a synchronized metamorphosis, they hatch into millions of flying insects. The adult cicada investigates forests, finds a mate, and lives his entire above ground life in forty-five days. He chirps from the treetops about his new freedom, but he’ll never know anything about the scope of life—the stock market, literature, the planets—that lies beyond his short winged existence.
My knowledge of my larger surroundings is comparable to the cicada. When I made Jesus my Savior, it was like crawling out of seventeen years in the ground. I saw life through new eyes. There was far more than I could take in, and so it was easy to conclude this huge experience was all there is.
As difficult as it is to get my mind around this earthly life, I must, nevertheless, move beyond my tiny lifespan and embrace a larger existence. I am not a larva or bug. There is another life with angelic creatures, a restored planet, and perfect joy. There’s as much unknown for me in the spiritual dimension, as there is for the adult cicada in the physical.
My only hope is to move toward the one at the center of it all. Jesus is the creator and sustainer of all realms. Therefore, the more I know him, the more I integrate with his dominions. By learning of his faithfulness, grace, righteousness, and passion, I’m already using the currency of my future home. I want to move to Jesus, and away from the limitations of a cicada.
Prayer: Holy One, I attach myself to you in hopes of knowing fully.