Do you ever spend time thinking about God?
(Though not as often as I should.)
And recently I’ve been thinking about how grand He is. How resplendent. How monumentally awe-inspiring.
When I gaze at the Blue Ridge mountains that charm me from the serenity of my front porch, I’m stunned to consider that their size is dwarfed by much larger peaks in other parts of the world.
I study the night sky and ponder countless stars, the sizes of which makes our entire planet look like a speck.
I contemplate the human body, with its intricacies that are perfectly designed for digestion. Respiration. Reproduction. And a host of other functions I will never come close to comprehending.
Not to mention the complexity of the brain and its capacity for intelligent thought and so much more.
Words fail me when I attempt to describe the grandeur of my God, the One who created all of these things and indeed everything that is jaw-droppingly magnificent.
Sometimes I have to confess that my mind drifts to a sort of dark place that asks how I could even consider trying to be in a relationship with this One I will never understand.
I will never, ever understand Him.
Not even close.
So why try?
What do I know of Him, after all?
Compared to the greatness of who He is, I must conclude I know next to nothing.
And were I to spend every moment of every day of my entire life learning more of who He is, it would still only be a negligible amount compared to the vastness of who He is.
And even more, why in the world would such a One as this have any interest in me? Or in any of us mere mortals for that matter?
“What is man that You are mindful of him,
and the son of man, that You care for him?”
I’ve seen Him answer prayers in ways that are so miraculous, I cannot deny it was Him. Things I dared to approach Him for, and specifically ask Him about…and He stooped an infinite distance to hear me, and to lovingly grant my request.
I’ve felt His tender embrace as He carried me through perilous times, and I’ve watched Him bring a healing we weren’t sure would come.
I’ve enjoyed His constant provision, and even when it wasn’t the way I wanted it to be, I’ve never lacked the abundance of His generosity.
I’ve sensed His particularly close presence…especially in my darkest days.
I’ve felt His comforting touch.
I’ve been overwhelmed by His grace and sheltered by His love.
I’ve had a front row seat as He pursued an entire family and drew them to Himself in a way that was hard but hopeful and healing.
I’ve experienced Him in ways that are real and doubtless and unquestionable.
I won’t ever have all of Him.
I won’t ever understand Him.
And you know what?
That doesn’t surprise Him.
He knows it already. And He’s okay with it.
It’s okay that I won’t ever have all of Him.
Because that’s not the point.
Because to have all of Him would mean that He wasn’t limitless, which would be a lie.
And to have all of Him would mean that I would have enough of Him, which isn’t possible.
And to have all of Him would mean that I could contain Him and comprehend Him and lay claim on Him, which is laughable.
No, I’ll never have all of Him.
But One such as this certainly deserves to have all of me.
And as long as I keep longing for Him and engaging Him and resting in Him and wrestling with Him and encountering Him, He will keep drawing me ever nearer.
And when my eyes begin to open to who He is and how much He wants to be with me, and the lengths He traversed to secure a relationship with me…
who am I to ever reject Him?
“Not today, God.”
“Sorry, God. No time.”
“Maybe later, God.”
Who do I think I am?
You know that thing that makes something unattainable? The thing that means it’s impossible to perfect? The thing you can spend your whole life pursuing and never feel like you’ve arrived?
That’s how you know it’s worth your time.
Written by Jennifer Clarke