Each time I am hurt by friends I turn to the page to pen my thoughts.
Today was one such day. In my bitterness I trudged petulantly to my bed, picked my journal and decided to pour out my anger. After all I was a skilled poet with verses so unique they could actually frame a universe. I remember the friend who claimed I was too difficult and proceeded to mute me in his life. I recalled that one with whom I used to converse nightly, who then retreated when it became apparent that I was flawed beyond repair.
As I tossed and turned in my self-inflicted anguish, I felt a calm rush over me.
Then I heard a voice. It was childlike… frail and fragile. The soft lilt impinged on my eardrums, sending chills down my spine. I could not tell whether it was a child or not. I quietened my mind and listened. “I stand in awe of His majesty. It is no jest when I declare that He is gigantic in glory. He is the most sophisticated being in the entire universe.”
The voice asked. “Have you wondered what kind of God He is that would paint the heavens with stars that outnumber infinity? Such an awesome wonder spreading the circumference of the heavens with the blast from his nostrils, as his Spirit traverses the perimeter of the deep.
Or have you pondered, while you wandered on the beach your fingers interlocked with your imaginary girlfriend, about the teeming population of ants and bugs hidden in the sand-thousand fragments of sands?
He is that kind of God that would make a tonnage of varying sounds from the echo of the mountain goat on the craggy hillsides of the east to the babbling calmness of brooks down in the south to the moans and groans that occur in the toilet.”
I flinched at that thought. It was unthinkable that God could be so concern with a waste of air like myself. The voice ignored my doubts and questions. “What manner of God is this God that carves out a plethora of colours and laces the bow of the air with enviable beauty? The kind of God that takes light and decks her with the royal hue of purple and the raging blush of red.
With his hands He splattered the galaxies with colour from the greenery of the verdant Amazon rain-forest, to the desert brown of the Sahara. Like an excited kindergarten lad, he splashed the blue simplicity of the sky and sea with the golden yellow glow of the sun.
Count the stars. Feel the sand between your toes. Take off in wonder. What kind of God is He that he sets the earth in motion? Every spin a pointer to his mathematical genius. The kind of God that places the earth in a poise that any slight deviation would end in disaster for men.”
My lightning fast mind screamed – Wait! Stop the presses!!! I dropped to my knees and I joined the voice…
What kind of God would leave ninety nine sheep and chase through the ragged countryside, in the dark and dreary night in search of one feeble and frail sheep – me!
He was born a man in a manger! Nothing else could be stranger!!! That God would put on the garish garments of worms like us all for love? Wouldn’t you dismiss such a claim as a misplaced desire for attention? It doesn’t add up!!! It just doesn’t add up…
Does it even make sense? What manner of a King is He that He would drop the scepter of His glory and wear the shabby robes of humanity only to be nailed to one tree with 3 nails. It is beyond me. He put His entire kingdom on hold just to hold you and make you whole. He is Holy and yet wholly devoted to you.
The same God that sculpted the heavens in all its glory and the earth in all its splendor in 6 days, the same God that entered the festering rot of the belly of death and sprung free in 3 days.
What manner of God is He? His maths amazes me! His method leaves me befuddled! He died as one man and rose as many sons! He ascended into the heavenlies and returned, on Pentecost, and invaded the hearts of many men!
He stands at the center. All men at equal distance from him. His grace pulling us in with a force that breaks the threshold. What manner of God is He?
I am a pencil in his hands and with me,
He writes a beautiful story a pleasant narrative of love, light and life;
I am clay nestling between His fingers,
Nursed to life by His mercy and majesty;
Though I am flawed, yet I remain His.
Though I am feeble, yet He calls me by name.
Though I am fragile, He holds me.
Though I am frail, He never lets me go.
No medley, no poem, no hymn can do justice to this God
I reach into the vault of synonyms: RESPLENDENT, GLORIOUS, COLOSSAL
Still I run out of words
I stand in awe of Him