God. Bending down from His throne exalted above the heavens where He is worshipped in a never-ending chorus of praise and worship by magnificent creatures in a place that has no gross blemish or corrupt stain.
Because He wants to talk with us. God does. You know, the One who spoke the galaxies into existence. Yes, Him.
He wants to talk to us. Wants to whisper sweet nothings in our ears and remind us that we are more deeply loved than we could ever imagine – despite our many flaws. Longs to tell us the most ancient stories and unfold some of the great mysteries for us. To recount the time He told the proud waves to stop and scrunched the land up into little piles that we call mountains. Or the time He became as small as a spec and lived in a womb for nine months. Or how He was thinking about me…and you…and the joy set before Him. Back when the weight of the world bore down on His shoulders in the darkest-of-dark moments 2,000 years ago. Or how He’s going to give me a new name one day. On that one day when He comes on the clouds to catch me up and take me home where I belong. To that one place that doesn’t even need a sun because He’s there. Yes, He’d like to chat with me about those things.
And, I’d rather read the comics or watch American Idol or check Facebook? Something is seriously wrong with this picture.
Do I really need to say more?