Reaching for what
we can never hope to touch; stretching
to attain that which cannot be attained; pressing, striving, longing, sighing, hoping, crying, praying
see, to hear, to touch, to know . . .
We chase the wind
and fall in exhaustion, our weaknesses apparent, our helplessness
Exhausted, we lay
in despair and in failure, knowing finally that what cannot be
grasped will not be grasped, what cannot be found will not be found.
He is beyond our
meager reach, outside our pathetic ability – our inability.
That which can be
known, is known, but that which cannot be known cannot be known. No
muse, no sage, no genius of man can reveal that which cannot be
found, grasped, recognized, understood.
The brilliance of
man is the dullness of God
The wisdom of man
is as shed leaves from Autumn’s trees; dead, brittle, incarcerated
in the prison of the earth to be blown here, there, swept away,
crushed, broken and scattered and finally, merging with the earth,
disappear, evaporate, vanish as though they never were.
One who saw more
than a million see said “all is vanity.”
Unless He reveals
Himself, He cannot be seen
discloses His frame, He cannot be known
Should He hide His
visage, no investigation will find Him
All our running
and all our striving leaves us only breathless, hopeless, alone and
emptier than before the race began unless He allows Himself to be
seen, found, heard, touched, known.
So He becomes the
He exposes Himself
to man – to first man, to fallen man, to feeble man, to faithless
man, to frail man, to fearful man He shows Himself.
In the Mount,
Moses remembers the fire and cries, “show me. . .!”
And he is
instructed, “if I lay bare Myself to you, you will surely die.”
And the mighty
deliverer of a nation presses forward, “then I will surely die.”
And then the
revelation, the showing forth, the unveiling, the presentation, the
exposure . . .
Himself before creation
bending to be examined by the invented
stooping to be touched by filthy hands
with the temporal
That which was
from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our
eyes, which we have looked upon, and our hands have handled,
concerning the Word of life-- the life was manifested, and we have
seen, and bear witness, and declare to you that eternal life which
was with the Father and was manifested to us—
Not in the running
and the exhausting and the stretching or the pressing, but in the
surrendering, in the yielding, in the resting, in the trusting, He
comes, remembering our frame, that we are dust,
He comes, as He
has always come to those of broken heart, and of contrite spirit.
We schedule our
all-night prayer meetings; we labor before Him, hoping He will
notice the effort; we wear ourselves to nothing, squeeze ourselves
into fragments, push and pull, shout and scream.
We conjure wind
and earthquake and fire only to discover on our exhausted bed He was
not in the wind, not in the earthquake, not in the fire. But after
the fire a still small voice.
Our noise is too
great, our volume too high, our movement too much. “Stand, and see
the salvation of the Lord.”
“There remains a
rest . . . “ Enter into His rest
Recline upon His
Lean on His
In the secret, In
is There - Here . . . Now
Unless the Lord
builds the house, they labor in vain that build it.
Be still and
In His Grace,