One of Us

It might have been easier for the Old Testament folks who believed in a God who was huge and over and external and distant.  He was “out there” somewhere, enough removed to enable us to ignore Him most of the time if we chose.  Never mind that the gap was caused by the first couple of humans stepping away with the fruit in the Garden and then tucking themselves behind trees and sewn leaves.  It seems that most of us have been trying to hide ever since those few innocent walking-together days at the very beginning of mankind’s story.   There were a few brave souls who persisted to chase Him down, but Abraham and Joseph and Moses and David and Daniel were rarities, and even they didn’t get it right all the time. 

God had shown up as the years went along in the non-human shape of pillars of fire or pillars of clouds and sent His messages in rainbows, writing on the wall, and through His prophets.  He was clearly not like us.  And our response was to tremble in our sandals, turn to Him and repent one moment, and build our golden calves the next.  The human dance with God is as complex as it gets.

Then Jesus came.  And we’ve been muddled by it ever since. 

He draped Himself in flesh and blood. He lived out the human potential every day of His life, except for those last few when He was doing the God-part of His mission that we couldn’t possibly do for ourselves.

He confused us further by His love language and gestures that were sometimes the balm-and-healing kind when things can be nurtures to wholeness, and other times were the surgical kind when things need to be removed with a sharp scalpel to accomplish wholeness. 

It is not an easy thing to wrap our heads around a God who looks like us.  Those who saw Him face-to-face were still not likely to recognize Him.  And it brought holiness a little too close for comfort, because now, though most couldn’t recognize the God who stood before them, the inclinations of our own hearts was crystal clear. That is what happens when you brush up against God.  And once we know the truth about ourselves, the responsibility is ours to respond to.  It’s a lot easier to keep God at a distance than to go through all that confession and repentance and sanctification stuff.  But then we are kind of back where we started, aren’t we, …people who are in great need and looking for an answer.

Jesus took things one step further by leaving earth so we could have the Spirit actually move right into our beings.  Now everywhere we go and everything we do, we are taking Him with us as a guest to the events.  It’s a sobering thought.

His love is stunning, His grace astounding.  He is still hanging Himself out there for us to consider.  But He is as willing as ever to let us decide what to do with Him.   He’s apparently still as open to our hurled stones and crucifixions as He is to our love.  Only a God-Man could see our frailties and still give us so much room.   Only a patient God would let us have that kind of time.  Only a God who wanted to share love would create beings with free will instead of making them into tiny slaves.   Some think He is stern and unjust and far too inactive, but only a relational God would take the risk of denial and curses and such damage as is done on earth, for the chance of someone’s affection returned.  That He ever gave us the opportunity at all is crazy wild.  That He is still giving us the chance to respond, in light of the messes we make, is unbelievable.  It will take a tiny mustard seed of faith to get us on our way to receive the gift.