IT'S NOT A SECRET
Then I turned to see the voice that was speaking with me. And having turned I saw seven golden lampstands, and in the middle of the lampstands I saw one like a son of man, clothed in a robe reaching to the feet, and girded across His chest with a golden sash. His head and His hair were white like white wool, like snow; and His eyes were like a flame of fire. His feet were like burnished bronze, when it has been made to glow in a furnace, and His voice was like the sound of many waters. In His right hand He held seven stars, and out of His mouth came a sharp two-edged sword, and His face was like the sun shining in its strength.
When I saw Him, I fell at His feet like a dead man. And He placed His right hand on me, saying, "Do not be afraid; I am the first and the last, and the living One; and I was dead, and behold, I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of death and of Hades. Therefore write the things which you have seen, and the things which are, and the things which will take place after these things."
(Revelation 1: 12-19)
"Write the things which you have seen."
Very few of us are given a direct vision of the Christ standing in Heaven. So we're not going to run out and talk of the Being Made of Light, at least not as something we'd give witness testimony about. But I think there's more to the commandment than Christ telling John to write about his vision.
On every side these days, society pushes for people to be more discrete about their faith. The thinking seems to be that if people "don't go public" with their faith, those around them will not be disquieted or made uncomfortable. We've somehow reached a place where being comfortable is equated with being at peace.
This man we speak of began his life in a stable and spent His ministry walking back and forth across His country without a settled home, I don't think He was particularly concerned with what is "comfortable." Oh, He certainly did believe in the kind of comfort that is consolation, the soothing of the raw emotions of loss, grief, hurt. But He didn't seem particularly interested in whether or not we were "comfortable" in the sense of being settled easily. In fact, he seemed best pleased with unsettling the people He met.
I don't know about you, but I would be greatly unsettled to encounter the one John describes in Revelation -- One standing in the midst of light, who had such brightness around him that His face and hair seemed white, whose feet glowed like molten metal, who held stars in one hand. Such a one can speak with a high degree of authority. And this Person charges John to write of what he sees.
We're not told to be silent about the things we witness, particularly not as believers. Instead, we are told to proclaim the glory of God, to praise Him. Why would we even think that we should refrain from speaking of what we have seen God do in our lives? When we try to dismiss the incredible, as Zacharias did, we might be stricken silent. But that was in order to impell him to his declarations -- because he wouldn't accept the news, and instead made a joke of it, he had to be silent once the news was confirmed, silent for a long stretch until the baby was delivered. But once he could talk again, the first things out of his mouth were praise for the actions of the Lord. When the shepherds were told by angels of the Christ's birth, they immediately ran to see the wonderful Child and then as they returned to their jobs, they told everyone they met of the event. They could not keep silent.
Why would we keep silent when the Lord meets us in small ways every day? Because for many of us, those small encounters are far more important that a dream-vision of Heaven. The small encounters that allow us to pay a looming bill, that help us deal with an immediate injury, that change a flat tire on our car; these things are important to us. The gentle touch of a hand when we've been wracked with loneliness, the soft voice speaking just to us when we haven't been spoken to in days, the unexpected gift from a friend when we've been struggling with something. Are these not so wonderful to us that we just can't keep quiet about them?
And yet we do.
We don't speak of these small shining glimpses of Heaven. Instead, we speak of the dark clouds that sit on us, the tangling vines that keep us from moving, the sticky mud that slows us down. We let our obstacles become more important than our destination. I'm as guilty of doing that as much as the next person. It's so easy to talk about what is right in my face - bills to be paid, jobs to be hunted, things that can't be done because I don't have the means right now, food I don't have, companions I'm without, pleasures denied.
Why do we do that? We don't really get any pleasure out of complaining, nor does it give joy to anyone around us. Why do we choose to testify to the unglorious things that happen?
The Shining One of God has come and dwelt among us. He has met us where we are. His coming was promised, and He did indeed come. He seeks us out and He finds us, no matter how far we stray from the flock. He shelters us, even in our most humble circumstances.
"Write of what you have seen."
Here are my drops of glory this moring, these little splashes of God's presence --
I had a friend spot me some funds for a pleasing dinner last night. I was hungry and didn't have much at hand, and he blessed me, and not out of pity, but out of respect and affection.
The sun is shining outside right now, and the weather is amazingly mild and warm for the season - something the hand of no human could accomplish.
I have before me at my desk two photographs. On one side, a photograph of my parents that I took on a lovely day, my favorite picture of them. They are relaxed and joyful, and the memory of that particular day shines bright in it. On the other side, a picture of a delightful couple that are as dear to me as my parents, a couple that moved beyond being professional mentors and inspiration.
Near at hand is a small book written by a friend, telling of many obstacles he has overcome, pages shining with encouragement and persistence.
These are the small gifts from the Lord, the immediate things. These are the things of Heaven that I have seen. If I can speak of these, I can speak of the bigger things too. Of the assurance that the Lord is with me no matter what. Oh, there've been times when I would have rather not traveled with that knowledge, when I was feeling resentful that I wasn't getting what "I wanted." But even then, knowing I could not out-run the Lord gave a sense of shelter.
The world is uncertain around us. The next instant could bring wind, fire, earthquake, sickness, loss, disaster. But no matter what, the Lord stands with me. I abide in Him, and His glory is around me. All I need do is open my eyes and let myself truly see.
I have seen the salvation of the Lord, and His love is beyond measure. And it waits for everyone.
What have you seen?
Then I turned to see the voice that was speaking with me. And having turned I saw seven golden lampstands, and in the middle of the lampstands I saw one like a son of man, clothed in a robe reaching to the feet, and girded across His chest with a golden sash. His head and His hair were white like white wool, like snow; and His eyes were like a flame of fire. His feet were like burnished bronze, when it has been made to glow in a furnace, and His voice was like the sound of many waters. In His right hand He held seven stars, and out of His mouth came a sharp two-edged sword, and His face was like the sun shining in its strength.
When I saw Him, I fell at His feet like a dead man. And He placed His right hand on me, saying, "Do not be afraid; I am the first and the last, and the living One; and I was dead, and behold, I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of death and of Hades. Therefore write the things which you have seen, and the things which are, and the things which will take place after these things."
(Revelation 1: 12-19)
"Write the things which you have seen."
Very few of us are given a direct vision of the Christ standing in Heaven. So we're not going to run out and talk of the Being Made of Light, at least not as something we'd give witness testimony about. But I think there's more to the commandment than Christ telling John to write about his vision.
On every side these days, society pushes for people to be more discrete about their faith. The thinking seems to be that if people "don't go public" with their faith, those around them will not be disquieted or made uncomfortable. We've somehow reached a place where being comfortable is equated with being at peace.
This man we speak of began his life in a stable and spent His ministry walking back and forth across His country without a settled home, I don't think He was particularly concerned with what is "comfortable." Oh, He certainly did believe in the kind of comfort that is consolation, the soothing of the raw emotions of loss, grief, hurt. But He didn't seem particularly interested in whether or not we were "comfortable" in the sense of being settled easily. In fact, he seemed best pleased with unsettling the people He met.
I don't know about you, but I would be greatly unsettled to encounter the one John describes in Revelation -- One standing in the midst of light, who had such brightness around him that His face and hair seemed white, whose feet glowed like molten metal, who held stars in one hand. Such a one can speak with a high degree of authority. And this Person charges John to write of what he sees.
We're not told to be silent about the things we witness, particularly not as believers. Instead, we are told to proclaim the glory of God, to praise Him. Why would we even think that we should refrain from speaking of what we have seen God do in our lives? When we try to dismiss the incredible, as Zacharias did, we might be stricken silent. But that was in order to impell him to his declarations -- because he wouldn't accept the news, and instead made a joke of it, he had to be silent once the news was confirmed, silent for a long stretch until the baby was delivered. But once he could talk again, the first things out of his mouth were praise for the actions of the Lord. When the shepherds were told by angels of the Christ's birth, they immediately ran to see the wonderful Child and then as they returned to their jobs, they told everyone they met of the event. They could not keep silent.
Why would we keep silent when the Lord meets us in small ways every day? Because for many of us, those small encounters are far more important that a dream-vision of Heaven. The small encounters that allow us to pay a looming bill, that help us deal with an immediate injury, that change a flat tire on our car; these things are important to us. The gentle touch of a hand when we've been wracked with loneliness, the soft voice speaking just to us when we haven't been spoken to in days, the unexpected gift from a friend when we've been struggling with something. Are these not so wonderful to us that we just can't keep quiet about them?
And yet we do.
We don't speak of these small shining glimpses of Heaven. Instead, we speak of the dark clouds that sit on us, the tangling vines that keep us from moving, the sticky mud that slows us down. We let our obstacles become more important than our destination. I'm as guilty of doing that as much as the next person. It's so easy to talk about what is right in my face - bills to be paid, jobs to be hunted, things that can't be done because I don't have the means right now, food I don't have, companions I'm without, pleasures denied.
Why do we do that? We don't really get any pleasure out of complaining, nor does it give joy to anyone around us. Why do we choose to testify to the unglorious things that happen?
The Shining One of God has come and dwelt among us. He has met us where we are. His coming was promised, and He did indeed come. He seeks us out and He finds us, no matter how far we stray from the flock. He shelters us, even in our most humble circumstances.
"Write of what you have seen."
Here are my drops of glory this moring, these little splashes of God's presence --
I had a friend spot me some funds for a pleasing dinner last night. I was hungry and didn't have much at hand, and he blessed me, and not out of pity, but out of respect and affection.
The sun is shining outside right now, and the weather is amazingly mild and warm for the season - something the hand of no human could accomplish.
I have before me at my desk two photographs. On one side, a photograph of my parents that I took on a lovely day, my favorite picture of them. They are relaxed and joyful, and the memory of that particular day shines bright in it. On the other side, a picture of a delightful couple that are as dear to me as my parents, a couple that moved beyond being professional mentors and inspiration.
Near at hand is a small book written by a friend, telling of many obstacles he has overcome, pages shining with encouragement and persistence.
These are the small gifts from the Lord, the immediate things. These are the things of Heaven that I have seen. If I can speak of these, I can speak of the bigger things too. Of the assurance that the Lord is with me no matter what. Oh, there've been times when I would have rather not traveled with that knowledge, when I was feeling resentful that I wasn't getting what "I wanted." But even then, knowing I could not out-run the Lord gave a sense of shelter.
The world is uncertain around us. The next instant could bring wind, fire, earthquake, sickness, loss, disaster. But no matter what, the Lord stands with me. I abide in Him, and His glory is around me. All I need do is open my eyes and let myself truly see.
I have seen the salvation of the Lord, and His love is beyond measure. And it waits for everyone.
What have you seen?
Labels: Christmas
posted by Sarah | 10:29 AM
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