I’m beyond tired. The Music Man and I were up with Ryland from 2:30 am on. He woke up with a stridor, which is a very scary sound! We took him out into the cool air and he was able to breathe much easier. It’s croup. Croup = No fun, sleepless nights and prednisone wired days. Booo.
So I’m off to bed early tonight, so is the croupy boy.
Yesterday at church we sang a line: The earth is filed with His glory.
Glory is a word and half. It holds a lot of weight. It is a lot of weight. It comes from a word that means heaviness. It’s substance. It’s evidence. It’s presence. It’s what represents. It’s what makes one revered, honored, great, majestic.
(I didn’t make it to completing this post last night. So continuing this morning…)
When I sang, “the earth is filled with His glory,” a theme filled my heart. What is the earth full of that is the heaviness of God? What is the earth filled with that makes God revered, honored, great, majestic? I turned away from the screen filled with words and looked at the Imago Dei ones standing all around me. I thought of everyday I drive to and fro, and yes, the creation, yes, the eternal blue sky, and the pillars of clouds (God’s water storage that looks like a dream), yes, the blazing sunrise and the purple hewed mountains, but even more all those busy people, moving in cars from here to there, bearing the image of God broken by sin. There’s His weightiest heaviness. There in those blue eyed and brown eyed and fair skinned and dark skinned and male and female and tall and short and heavy and thin and variously gifted, there lies the greatest evidence of God’s majesty.
The earth is filled with people God made in his image. And oh how very fallen we are! The greatest evidence of God’s glory has become the greatest perversion of God’s glory. And we are twisted and broken and perverse and no longer reflect His image. And He knows this and has given us a sure and great hope. The Image of God Restorer. Christ in us, the hope of glory. The very Image of God Himself, taking on our brokenness, dying our destined death, satisfying God’s right to reject everyone he created- we perverts of His image- and rising as proof and promise: He will raise all the Christ-hoping ones too.
I don’t know how to put words to this theme really. I lack the ability to grab hold. But when I sing, “The earth is filled with His glory.” I drink living waters. And I realize how very treasured every soul I see is. Worth the only One who ever was full of His glory dying for. And I want to treat each one with the honor He deserves. And I want to work out my own amazing salvation with fear and trembling. Christ in me, the hope of glory.