In Here

"He can push back oceans, reform mountains, dry up rivers and blossom deserts as the rose, but He also knows the hairs on my head, the sparrows in my garden."

WHO AM I but a tiny dot in a sea of people? At home, in the secret place with my Lord and Savior, with my Abba, and the sweet Holy Spirit, I feel cherished, huge, filled to overflowing. But outside, amidst the crowd, their lives interconnected with mine, I shrink back. More than my personality, which makes me feel small enough, it is that the world is so broad and the roads through it so many, and who am I anyway?

But there’s the thing. However tiny I appear in my own eyes, my loving God searches me out. He is intimate and close and personal. Out there, I am that dot. In here, where it’s me and my grandfather’s Bible, my dusty computer and the dog, I am a life well-lived. These verses in this book are written to me. His voice speaking softly in my ear is mine alone.

The Father of all, who sits on the throne of heaven, majestic beasts surrounding Him, crying out His holiness, and His Son, the King of Kings whose Spirit’s glory effuses the skies, their greatness expressed in a magnitude we, as humans, cannot fathom, all of their eternity, which was and is and is to come, is as interested in me and my grandfather’s Bible and the dog as they are the nations of the earth and the battle which rages over them. He can push back oceans, reform mountains, dry up rivers and blossom deserts as the rose, but He also knows the hairs on my head, the sparrows in my garden.

There are times when we must become that dot and push ourselves through the traffic. We must deal with our place in humanity, in culture, in the church world, but we do so, knowing that where we are alone, where we are at home, He enters in. He is there with us, and for today and tomorrow, until He returns for all the dots of humanity, we abide in Him. We make our home in His house, He comes to stay in ours, willing to speak amidst the noise of our existence. While the children dash through, the TV rumbles on, the dog begs to go out.

He, who is worthy, who is beginning and end, sits inside, beside, as gentle as the evening dusk, as wise as the finest points of life, as open and honest as your children’s laughter, real and tangible and stable. A Father, a brother, a friend, love swept back and forth like butterflies intent on the flowers which shine in your view.

Who am I that thou who are holy would stay and dine with me? What is my future that you who made all things would share it with me? And who but the God of all would be so great and so small in the same vein? Here with me. There with me. The four of us, one as us, all that you are as great in the kitchen where I sip tea, as out in the masses where your faith guides me.

*“Therefore, when Jesus said the Holy Spirit would dwell within the disciples (See John 14:17), He was making the most radical kind of statement any Jew could ever speak. He was declaring that for the first time in history, the Spirit of God was going to be present in the hearts of God’s people on a permanent basis. In the Greek, the word ‘dwell’ is the word meno. It means to stay or to abide. This is the picture of a person who has resolved that he is never going to move again. He has found the home of his dreams and is determined to stay there. He will not move, budge, flinch, or ever be forced to move out.” | Rick Renner, “The Holy Spirit and You!”

Photo by Elina Sazonova

----------
Suzanne D. Williams, Author
www.suzannedwilliams.com
www.feelgoodromance.com