Do I not fill heaven and earth?
Sitting outside the local cafe, I watched the people walking by. There were short ones, round ones, brown ones, black ones. White ones, tall ones, happy ones, sad ones. Everyone that walked by showed me a face of God.
I sipped my coffee and marveled that I am so blessed to be a part of God’s creation which He so graciously inhabits. When my cup was empty, I got up and went on my way, aware that my face, too, reflects God. Better behave in a way that is in alignment with that, I thought to myself, then smiled at the child of God walking toward me.
We have all received grace.
I opened the email and read the first few sentences with a heavy heart. Clearly, my friend was upset with me, even though I didn’t think I had done anything wrong. My first reaction was to defend myself from her accusations. My fingers hesitated over the keyboard, ready to type out a terse reply. But God stopped me. I took in a slow deep breath and exhaled.
“You, too, have lashed out at others,” God reminded me. “You too, have felt the fear and resentment that seeps in when we view someone as an enemy, as “other.” You know the pain your friend is feeling.”
I pondered His words for quite some time. “What is it that you show us?” I asked, although I already knew the answer. “You show us grace, even when we are not deserving,” I said.
My fingers slowly typed out a message. “I am sorry that I have caused you pain. I love you and hope that we can repair this rupture between us.” I pressed the send button and breathed a sigh of relief. God extends grace to me. I can extend it to my friend. Hopefully, she will extend it to me. Hopefully we all will extend it to each other.
“In my Father’s house are many rooms.”
There is a particular smell in the garden at night when it rains. Pungent. Woodsy. Like nothing I’ve ever smelled before. Every time I encounter it, I’m filled with a nameless longing—homesick for a place I can’t remember. Tonight I stood in a soft rain just to breathe it in; to feel that sweet longing.
“Dear God, my heart longs for something I can’t name. Something I can’t remember,” I said as the rain peppered my hair. I stayed out in the dark for a few minutes more, then went back inside.
I don’t know why I’m telling you about it, other than I think you know that longing too. It’s a haunting reminder that what we have in this life is of no comparison to what God is preparing for us when we return home.
I toweled off my hair and crawled into bed and settled down to sleep, perhaps to dream. “Good night, God,” I said and turned off the light, knowing that all throughout the night, He would be there with me, just as He is with you, until the end of time.