Oh, the Depth . . .

33 Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!

34 “For who has known the mind of the Lord,
    or who has been his counselor?”
35 “Or who has given a gift to him
    that he might be repaid?”

36 For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen.”

Romans 11:33-36 (ESV)

The evening is as still as the dead. Only the music of the crickets breaks the heavy silence. The air is thick and slow with moisture, making a hazy veil through which to see the bronze sun take its final bow. The fading light leaves behind a golden anointing oil, dripping from leaf to stone, stone to soil. Nature is pregnant with the anticipation of a long awaited rendezvous with its Master.

Without so much as a blink of an eye, a cool gentle breeze dances on its tip toes through the outstretched fingers of the towering trees. As if plagued by goose bumps, the grass raises itself to stand up straight at attention. Flowers throw their precious crowns of petals onto the ground to pave a way for Him whose feet they are not even worthy to touch. The door has opened. The way is prepared. The song has begun.

And suddenly, He is here. It’s as if he never left, yet His arrival is marked by a peal of thunder from the depths of His own eyes. His audience watches closely in silence every move He makes. The grasses dare not blink so as not to miss even a moment of gazing upon His glory. The winds dare not breathe for their breath has no place in His presence. The trees are paralyzed by the weight of His movement. Even the sun steals a look at its Father before falling to its knees beyond the horizon in reverence.

He moves swiftly and with such zeal it’s almost frightening. He brings himself to a knee, and reaches His hand to the ground, touching the parched soil. A small stream of water sprouts from the place His hand touched. And then the stream begins to burst forth into a mighty fountain of water, flowing with such a mighty power that the earth trembles beneath it. The Master’s creations are awestruck by the spectacle.

The birds begin to sing a song of thanksgiving, the water washing away all of the silence that preceded it. The trees cheer the triumph of their king. The grass and flowers rush to bow deeper and deeper, lower and lower. Praises punctuate the air as the wind prances through the place of worship.

The Master dances with his servants, they rejoice in perfect communion. They are fulfilled in their one purpose: to be with Him.


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