his hand is heavy, his beauty a flood

and i am mesmerized by the beauty of simplicity, robed in light.
what is simpler than the gospel?
what is more beautiful than my Savior?
and i find myself hungry, craving hard, spirit-stomach in pain, a gnawing feeling screaming at me to eat of the bread of life.
oh, how i need that bread. there is none like it found elsewhere.
and i thirst every hour, parched lips and a dry desert-tongue begging for me to drink once again of the living waters.
oh, how i need that water. there truly is none like it elsewhere.

but how can i keep drinking of this water when i work, play, and toil at things not like heaven, things carnal, things that my mortal body must do simply to engage this life that i am called to?
how can i abide continually?
how can i remain at the great table of the LORD forever?
how can i sit in his presence every waking moment?
my mind, persuaded by logic and reason, tells me it is impossible.
but my heart, made of blood and love, in which human logic and reason do not abide, whispers to me softly that this is possible.
how?
how can i remain in his presence without ceasing?
how can i drink of his water without stopping?
and i hear him tell me to see him in everything.
everything?
how can i see the infinite God in a small autumn flower?
how can i see the loving Father in the face of a troubled drug-addict?
how can i see the great Teacher in a broken relationship?
how can i see the gentle Counselor in a tragic accident?
how can i see the powerful Creator in a messy room?

and in the darkness of my doubt, the Father of Lights shouts excitedly, “Find me in everything!”

and so i begin to search for my dearest Friend in the everyday schedule, the monotony, the menial tasks, the things that often go unnoticed.
and slowly, i begin to find him.
i see that God is that small autumn flower; for he came down to earth in a cold and deathly season, and brought beauty where there was none, just before he died and winter came. but while our winter is three months, his was three days.
i see that God is in the face of the heroin addict on Chestnut street. for he desires us more than that man desires his fix. i know that Jesus has made us his identity even more than that man has made his addiction his identity. he calls us his siblings!
and slowly, i see that God indeed is everywhere.
i cannot escape his truth.
it is plastered all over the walls of my life.
it paints the world in brilliant color, and sometimes dull, but always speaks of the great I AM.
for God is like the bird soaring above me, singing over me, keeping watch from above, soaring high above the struggles and trials found here on the ground where i stand.
for God is like the chair i’m sitting in, for he became low that i might be brought high, and it is because of his strong seat of mercy that i am found in right-standing before God.
for God is like the child running and screaming around wildly in the grass, for he loves showing us his wild side, where he plays with us as children, delighting in the simplicity of spending time with us in the fields of contentment.

for is he not Creator?
are we not his Creation?
do we not live in his Creation?
if it is so, then why do we fail to notice his nod, his wave, smile, and wink in the little things that escape our attention every single day?
his nature is all around us, his love is painted thick in pictures that envelop our tiny existence.
how he longs for us to abide in his presence!
and his presence is simply this: awareness.
for he is already here.
he created us, and created this world, full of beauty and pain, for us to enjoy each other and him, and to abide in his embrace.
and this world is his embrace.
his hand is heavy, his breath thick, and like a potter intimately involved in the design of his creation so our Heavenly Potter brings his face close to his Creation: us, and fashions details around us to display his beauty and glory, and yet we so often miss it.
this world may be fallen, but like a broken jar still contains the fingerprints of its maker, so this earth still contains our Father’s fingerprints.
we simply have to look for them.
and in doing so, we find him, and we rest in his presence.
and we begin to learn what it means to truly abide.
we learn what it means to drink continuously from the fountain of living water that never runs dry.
we discover what it means to eat of the bread of life that always sustains us, and is more than enough.
and in this adoration and awareness of his intricate beauty and design we find ourselves at the great and holy table of the LORD, feasting on his beauty and goodness all the days of our lives.

and there we are full.
and there we are satisfied.
hallelujah.

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