Midweek Motivation
Next, we find ourselves on the riverbank; ages have gone by. A rough, wild character wearing a hairy hide strides into the shallow waters. I listen to an old man’s whispered description of the scene, and I watch this stranger through the old man’s eyes. The Baptist chastises religious leaders, preaches words of fire, and wraps the faithful in his strong arms as the waters close over them. And then he cries out.
A Man stands among them.
The old man’s voice whispers again; and I sit in a dark, clammy room near a fire, somewhere on a distant island of exile. I hear sadness in his words. “He came to His own, and those who were His own did not receive Him.”
But then, I hear wonder in his voice.
“And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth,” says that soft voice, touching my ear across thousands of years. “For of His fulness we have all received, and grace upon grace.”
I know John aches to explain it to me, but even he, with all the aeons encompassed in his words, can’t capture the infinite. So instead, John points me to the One on Whom his eyes remain fixed – even to this day, in that place where he now lives. “No man has seen God at any time; the only begotten God, who is in the bosom of the Father, He has explained Him.”
Writing is easier than parenting. It’s also easier than marriage, a lot of the time, simply because I don’t have to consult a single soul, if I don’t want to. But if I can’t make my family feel significant, there’s no point writing for total strangers. All God-given interaction is about the statement, “You will be significant to me.”
As I’ve written these columns, I’ve had to throw out the neat, tidy lines and really think about letting you matter to me – even if I don’t know who you are. But we all know who our loved ones are. We have no right to make strangers more significant to us than the people God has given us, because our people weren’t given to anyone else. My husband goes out into the workforce where his mega-corporate employer constantly reinforces to him that he, and the other workers, are insignificant. When my kids leave home, no one will hug them and give them cookies “just for existing,” except me and their Grandmas.
Yeah, we fail. We get busy with things. We get tired. We complain, get bitter, and justify our moments of apathy. But today is the first day of the rest our days. We can get up right now and do something for a family member that says, “You are significant to me.”
Write a letter to your elderly great-aunt, and let God place it in the file marked eternal treasure. Write your child a note of praise or your spouse a love note. Write a journal entry listing all the great things you can think of about Jesus. Or write a letter to Him, letting the real, honest contents of your heart spill out – good, bad and ugly. Practice giving your writing to God first, before you give it to anyone else.
At our house, we call this “Special Supper.” It’s a delight to the kids. Before rotating shifts began at work, we did it once a week in our family. Now, it’s an occasional surprise. The juice is served in a decorative jug and goes in wine glasses. The little kids don’t eat off plastic “kid dishes.” The meal itself? We KISS the family – Keep It Simple Silly. The point is to make it feel like a night out at a restaurant.
The carpenter stops, looks back at them, and shows, perhaps, the first glimpse of His quiet humour. It’s a question you could get asked if you followed someone on the street today, “What are you looking for?”
They can’t give an answer. All they know is, the Baptist says this is the guy, and they just have to follow Him. So they ask where He’s staying.
I think He smiles, and His dark eyes twinkle just a little. “Come, and you’ll see.”
The next day, He goes out, and He finds Philip. No explanation given, none needed. This is how He is. In awe, Philip goes and finds the driest fisherman among them.
In Nathanael’s mind, there is only the drudgery of now. He would never dream that someday, his name will be inscribed upon an eternal foundation stone, much less that you and I and many others will pause to trace its engraving when we get Home.
Nathanael shrugs at Philip’s excitement, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”
Philip answers, “Come and see.”
There is a Man among us.
Read the Book.
Cathi-Lyn Dyck
