Friday, February 12, 2016

Closer and Closer

written by Buddy Hocutt

I once read the creation story in Genesis 1 on top of a mountain. Gazing over God's vast, glorious creation as you read about is incredible. I highly recommend it next time you find yourself a few thousand feet above sea-level.


While reading the story, it was brought to my attention that God is a god of proximity. That is, we serve a god who desires to draw near to us. Perhaps in my head, maybe even in my heart I knew this, but never before had I heard it put to words. It rocked me. Who are we, who am I, that the eternal creator of the universe would want to be anywhere near me? Look at the marvelous mountain I was standing on – surely God would rather draw close to that! I mean, I'm mediocre at best, with a knack for screwing things up. At the very least you'd think God could find a better person than me to hang out with...

Actually, he probably couldn't. We're all pretty screwed up and that's the beauty of it. God loves this group of broken, dirty scrubs called humanity. He tells us as much all through scripture, but it
doesn't really sink in until you realize two things:

1. The (literal) ungodly mess we made of the world.
2. That God dove head-first into that mess to save it and in doing so, kick-started the greatest rescue mission of all time.

Actually, God was in it from the beginning. In Genesis 3, we read that God is walking in the garden with Adam and Eve. Granted, that's where the story goes South, but the fact remains – God engaged in creation alongside His greatest creation. Later, in Exodus 19, God descends from heaven to Mount Sinai and speaks to Moses. He doesn't just come down to hang out, he comes down to be with His people specifically! He even instructs the Israelites on how to build His house. He sends a bunch of laws and rules our way too – laws and rules designed to help us be humans the right way. We don't follow those directions very well, of course, and consequently we're in the lurch for few hundred years... But that's when God decides to get His hands dirty and come to earth again.

In the person of Jesus, the god of the universe has physically come down from heaven to live with his creation as creation. He comes hurling into chest-high muck and struggles right along with us. He is tempted. He is tried. He gets angry and he gets exasperated. But best of all, he gets up close and personal with the worst of the worst. He hurts with us, then He heals us. He experiences life with us, and then he invites us to dinner.

Prostitutes? You bet. Tax collectors? Definitely. The poor, broken, crippled, diseased, prideful, and arrogant? They all have a place at the table. We all have a place at the table, right next to Jesus. All we have to do is show up. Seriously. It's that easy. The hard part is really feeling like we belong; really feeling the presence of God with us.

That's where I'm being shaped and formed right now. At the beginning of Fellows we all chose a one-word prayer for the year. Mine was spirit – as in drawing close to God and feeling His Holy Spirit viscerally. See, my walk with Christ has traditionally featured a lot of Father and a lot of Son, but the Holy Spirit has been a kind of redheaded step-child. The Trinity has always felt like a single line, rather than a three-sided figure. Real “God moments” rarely happen for me and I approach them with a healthy dose of skepticism and a hard heart.

But, reading Genesis on top of a mountain started to chip away at me. Living in true community with my fellow Fellows is softening my heart. As I come to the table with others; as I see Christ in them and witness the Spirit moving in their lives I feel my skepticism melting away. As I advocate for refugees on internship days and see them flourish, the Trinity starts to look like the Trinity again. Ultimately, as I quiet my heart and listen; as I reflect on those two points above, God draws closer and closer. Or rather, I draw closer and closer to God. He stays where he's been all along – in and amongst humanity, everywhere at all times. It's me who moves away – a truth I am only now learning... and relearning... and learning again.

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