It’s amazing how the further I go into parenting, the more I learn about being His child.
A few days ago my husband went outside and this happened. I thought it was adorable, so of course I grabbed my camera and snapped some photos. But later as I uploaded and looked through them, I came upon this one and was struck by it for some reason. After studying it for a few moments the thought finally came to me:
This looks like how I feel.
So often I feel like I am on my knees with my face pressed up against a glass door, watching my Father from a distance. I can see Him moving and working, but I can’t speak to Him or touch Him. Maybe He’s even speaking to me, but I can’t hear Him. I’m stopped by a barrier that is firmly set between us–one that I can’t cross and He’s obviously too busy to cross.
I know that this mindset comes from certain relationships I’ve had in my life. Because of a handful of people who didn’t treat me as though I was a priority, I have always struggled to feel like I was a priority to anybody–including God. Many times when I begin to approach Him or to speak to Him, I am paralyzed by the feeling that I’m not good or important enough for Him to take notice of. Why try at all?
So in order to protect myself, I firmly plant myself on one side of this glass door and try to be content with separation from God. I stay close enough to see Him working and moving, but not close enough to speak to Him or touch Him. And that’s got to be enough, because He doesn’t want me any closer. So I say, “God, You do Your thing over there, and I’ll worship you from over here.” He’s not bothered, and I’m not rejected as long as I stay on my side of the glass door.
But you know what He told me today? There’s another word for that glass door:
When Jesus drew His last breath, the veil that separated us from God was torn in two from top to bottom. The glass door was shattered. Jesus Christ did not die so the veil could stay in place! He died to tear it down; to make a way for us to the Father; to allow us precious relationship with Him that we might see Him work and move, all the while speaking to and touching Him. We get all of it–the whole package–because of the Blood of Christ.
And yet here I stand behind an empty frame, surrounded by shards of glass and scraps of fabric pretending that the door is still there; that the veil was never torn–too afraid of rejection to walk through the doorway.
He is slowly teaching me that by not walking through the door, I am neither believing in the fullness of Christ’s sacrifice nor accepting the fullness of life He offers. He is slowly teaching me that the veil can never be repaired and that He would never want it to be because He loves me, He wants to be near me, and I am a priority to Him.
Lord, help thou mine unbelief. Help me to accept every gift You offer freely, including relationship with You. Help me to remember that you open doors no one can shut (Revelation 3.8)… including me. And help us all to remember that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8.38-39). Praise God.
In Love and Christ,