Driving home to Arkansas at the end of Christmas break, the sky was dark, but not black yet, and the hills and mountains rose about me in shadowy splendor, above the earth. Lights sparkled in the distance as homes poured their warmth into the night.
I drove in the near-black, looking at the lights among the hills, feeling how small I was in my little car, driving on the road. I imagined the great, grand universe, and how tiny I really am amongst the stars and the milky way.
And it reminded me of how great and glorious our God is, how incredibly grand He is above everything.
And I prayed to him this morning and thought again that to come alongside this great God is to come alongside a great mountain, strong and sure.
And I am small, tiny; really, quite insignificant. I don’t know much; I am weak. I have limitations. I’m not anything special.
But I rest in the cleft of this giant mountain of grace, the greatness of God. His ways are indeed higher than mine and his thoughts higher than mine and during this time here, I will never really know all that He is up to.
Nor do I have to. It’s the grace of being small. The grace of being finite. The grace of having the privilege to say, “I don’t know; I’ll have to trust you on that.” And the grace of knowing One who is not small, but who made himself small, who contained himself in humanness; so that he knows temptation and limitation and can help us in his infinite, limitless grace. And so that we can begin to understand his greatness and give him glory.
I am small; I am weak. He is not. I rest in the greatness of God.