I wonder if we will be surprised who we see in heaven one day, and who we don’t. I wonder if we will fall on our faces, astounded by the grace of our God, melted by His love and mercy and in awe of His power.
I hear a lot of talk about our rights lately. Rights as women or whatever group of people we are claiming rights for. But, in the birthing room, and in the silence when heaven meets earth, it isn’t the rights we concern ourselves with. It isn’t our earthly identity that clothes us in the end, shielding us, keeping us secure. There is nothing false to hide behind in that moment. When a tiny casket, or even a typical sized casket is lowered into the earth, we are quieted and only one thing remains.
The love we gave, and the love we regret not giving.
Do we really know this Jesus we speak of, the one we resist and rush passed, and claim to know? Do we know Him intimately? Because if we did, we would clamor so much less with the clanging symbols that echo love’s absence. When I hold a father or mother in my arms as they weep for their child, it doesn’t matter if they wear a hospital gown, a business suit, tattoos, piercings, or a bandana. Their political views or worldviews are irrelevant. Loss, brokenness like that, it’s an equalizer. I’ve heard it said that the ground is even at the cross. It’s the same at the deathbed.
And, if we truly knew our Jesus, if we cared about what He did, we would know that He was the first to acknowledge that men and women were equally loved and valued in His sight. He did so in a time when culture demanded otherwise. He wasn’t concerned with culture. He ate with the sinners and loved the unlovable. So, we don’t have to clamor so loudly for others to notice. We don’t have to resist what we think is oppression, trading in what is precious for a false sense of empowerment for deeper bondage. If we truly delve into His word and let it flow into our hearts coating the mess inside with His healing truth, then we will realize we are never truly free by gaining what we grasp with our own hands.
Do not let your adornment be merely outward—arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel— rather let it be the hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God. 1 Peter 3:3-4
His math, you see, it isn’t like ours. It is in the laying down of rights, that we gain true empowerment. It is in the pouring out that He fills up. It is in the dying to ourselves that we truly learn to live. It is in the becoming a servant to Him that we find sweet freedom. Submission, in marriage, is a mutual and beautiful gift, when done His way. A perfect flowing. A safety net much stronger and sweet than any sense of strength we try to build ourselves. A band of three cords is not quickly broken. Much stronger than one cord…no matter how tough we think that cord to be.
Just a little something to ponder in the midst of all the noise.