Rain
should make us think of God for it need not ever rain. Dawn, likewise, should evoke a sincere
praise, for no one can spin the earth.
But these are old thoughts and this morning makes for me an old
God. What would You do this morning that
should remind me you are God, God New, God always creating new? People I hope to see in heaven? That’s it?
Ok let’s see. Pilate, who sold
his soul in front of all of us, could be a thankful surprise for how often do I
hide Thee when Thou art inconvenient. Old
warhorses (not people), safe and secure, retired from the obedient role of
rushing their masters into their shared death.
Hitler,
the one least likely to make any list but surely could find himself, at the
last moment, inside Thy Grace. For if it
be Grace and if it be free to all then it can be for any one of the all even
the worst one.
Shall
I dare say Satan? Max Lucado did in
Cosmic Christmas. He was the first man
who opened my eyes to scandalous grace.
If Satan, his heinous self, came crippled to his senses, cried out to
his maker, “forgive me!” then perhaps scandalous grace would be something far grander
than any word we might imagine for it. His
ways and words are not ours and to what degree has this grace been bent to
include me?
Maybe
only a degree or two less!
 |
| Rothko's Blue and Grey Hopefully at the last moment he got in. |
No comments:
Post a Comment