Tuesday, September 6, 2011


Two children are playing outside on this lazy summer morning.  The colours are hazy, the grandeur of the mountains slightly faded by the warm smog rolling in from the city.  The older of the pair, an eight-year-old girl, laughs as she holds up her thumb and squints with one eye in the direction of her younger brother.  "Ha! I can't see your head anymore, it's gone!"

"Hey..." the little boy retaliates, trying this trick of perspective for himself.  He pinches thumb and forefinger until they nearly touch. "You're only this big!" Turning their attention to the car in the driveway, the mountains in the distance, the sun in the sky, they measure the astonishing smallness of these familiar objects, laughing at the absurdity of the game.

~ ~ ~
Absurd? Truly? In our world, most have worshiped the game until it has become a prison; a fatal, self-inflicted blindness.  The philosophies of this world puff up the influence, greatness, and potential of humanity. Our lives are not a linear progression between birth and death, but a web, extending outward, perhaps even heavenward.  Each thought, each word, each step, affecting the lives walking beside and coming after. The headiness of wisdom, the immortal, unquenchable, immutable human spirit has intoxicated the great minds of countless philosophers and sages.

What does it mean to be human? It is a question that has been asked time and again, and has never been satisfactorily answered by science or philosophy.  In the end, man is his own creation, made in the image of the mirage we set before us.  But what if the mirage is emptiness and the image becomes brokenness?

 "All that my eyes desired I did not refuse them. I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure, for my heart was pleased because of all my labor and this was my reward for all my labor. Thus I considered all my activities which my hands had done and the labor which I had exerted, and behold all was vanity and striving after wind and there was no profit under the sun." (Ecc 2:10-11)

meaningless. meaningless.

The oppressiveness of what we understand, but which does not fill; what we seek to know, but cannot find - these things are death to us!  Oh that eyes would be opened to see!  For at last, at the moment of hopelessness, when the prison tower crumbles, there is hope.

This is humanity.  This dash between two dates, this life with its vast web of human connection; of love and hate and dreams; of failure and achievement...  All of it, nothing more than a pin prick in the hand of the Almighty Creator, the Sovereign Judge.  (Dan 4:35)  "Ah," we think with relief, "so small that He would never notice."


drove the nails through the hands

How foreign, how strange, how disturbing this is to a world that is gorged with self-love.  How astonishing God's words are, that we, being nothing, could be such an offense to Him that He would give Everything to ransom us.  What beauty!  What love beyond compare! 

"O Lord God, You have begun to show Your servant Your greatness and Your strong hand; for what god is there in heaven or on earth who can do such works and mighty acts as Yours?" (Deut 3:24)

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