Since ancient times
no one has heard,
no ear has perceived,
no eye has seen
any God besides You
who acts on behalf of those who
wait for Him.
My listening in the Word this morning took me on a wild ride that started in Matthew chapter 3 at the fascinating moment of Jesus’ baptism. My heart caught at these words:
At that moment, heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.” (v16,17)
It’s that “well pleased” comment that has always drawn me. The idea that now, because I am adopted by His Son, I am included in that phrase. Not because I’m good or I try hard or I somehow stand out—but just because Jesus brought me into Himself.
Will I ever grasp that?
But this morning I heard that softest whisper from the Spirit on this phrase:
At that moment, heaven was opened…
I’ve seen heaven opened.
And the story is longer than I can include here, but it’s true. When the elders of our little church in Santa Cruz circled ‘round me to anoint me with oil and pray that God would heal my broken ears… right when I hit bottom and the blackness in my heart threatened to sink me,
I saw… or felt… or experienced… heaven opened.
Light streaming through, engulfing me, surrounding me, warming me in those frigid recesses of my soul. My rebellious, angry, blasphemous soul.
And ever since then I have been different.
Like Moses when he stumbled down the mountain after meeting with God… Like Peter and John and James when they heard and felt and experienced God on the mountain. Like Paul when he was “caught up” and saw things he could barely describe.
Imperfect, mixed up, broken people who caught a glimpse of… Glory.
This morning as I curled up with tea and a soft blanket out in this cabin in the woods where I meet Him early, I realized something wonderful, something I’d not noticed in all the telling of my story. Just this:
Every time we turn to Him, every time you or I open His Word and ask Him to speak. Every time we ask Him to show us His glory…
Not normally in a nice zap that would make for good T.V…
Nor usually in grandiose Las Vegas style glitz…
Simply because His glory isn’t mostly like what we think…
His glory is Himself.
When we come messy, needy, desperate.
When we know our own limitations and despair at our ineptitude.
When we get to the place of such poverty that we cannot go on.
And when we wait, hands open, heart yielded, wanting only Him,
That’s when He shows us His glory, Himself.
I want to be that one He finds waiting.
I think you do too.
I want to wait every day, not passively wishing for a zap, but actively waiting on tippy toes for His glory.
Listening, looking, hoping… for Him.
From my heart,
P.S. Can you tell us how you hear Him? How you see His glory? Because He speaks in the ways we can hear and shows Himself in ways we can see, sharing His glory with each other opens our ears and eyes to Him in new ways.
(image by Abi Porter)