You walked into a church with nothing to expect, but only an expectancy and assurance knowing Our Lord has something to say and we are in our eagerness to find that out, to await for the drop of His revelation. We prayed exactly for that the night before. Not in a form of a burning bush, not in a form of parting seas, not in a form of thunder clapping clouds, but await for simply a thread of His peace threading through my vein linking His to mine – that’s to me a climax of worship standing together collectively as a church, all facing to the front not paying attention to the worship leader strumming the guitar, or the lead vocal sliding her voice up to a high note with her worshipful arms and prayerful eyes. But something far deeper that is voraciously raging under my chest that He is speaking, the Spirit is making the mystery of the gospel known whether you are standing in obscurity and anonymous, or you are standing as “One” before the King of all kings in this square feet of holy ground on which you stand.
Here I was becoming undone before our King, singing this familiar song that had been covered by many artists. The theme somehow gets boiled down to how the Lord loves is irresistibly strong like tree bending and bowing under strong winds. As I stood there singing the song on my lips, I felt none of those words are speaking to me. Of course He is jealous for me. Of course He loves like a hurricane under which I am a tree … But none of that makes any sense if all I could see is my little square feet wide story of receiving His redemption. For the first time standing on that square feet of tiled ground singing these lyrics, there came a touch of a thought falling onto four young faces – A, V, P and S – who are now currently in the forefront of our prayers for the loosening of trauma once and still infesting in their lives.
It was this touch of thought, mildly landing on their faces like a dragonfly kissing, dancing and twirling and making ripples on lake water, that sank me deep into my worship praying under my breath interceding on their behalves whether they know about His love for them or not. Truly when His love is so overwhelmingly for us to fathom, we would not have time to maintain any regrets, any hurts and mischief, any distorted lies, any heavy chains, any rounds of wrong choices that drag us into that road of destruction …
This is a song by a worshiper whose journey was to rage along with his frustration and anger and confusion towards a God who is strong enough to take his accusations, who is not offended by his spiking whys and whats and hows but who is able to melt all the brashness into a vivid spectacle of seeing the blood of Christ dripping on a tree, our God dying for his friend, for himself, for me, and for you, for A, for V, for S, for P. Such looks like afflictions on our earthly mortal bodies are in fact eclipsed by His glorious glory.
“In Prince Caspian, part of C S Lewis’ Narnia Chronicles, the children Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy all find themselves in Narnia after a long absence. Aslan, the great king and lion is nowhere to be seen. Lucy, the youngest of the children, particularly aches to see him. One thing she wakes to a great stirring in the forest, and to a voice calling her. While the other children sleep, she ventures forth through the woods and into a clearing. Here’s what happens.
A circle of grass, smooth as a lawn, met her eyes, with dark trees dancing all around it. And then – oh joy! For he was there: the huge LION, shining white in the moonlight, with his huge black shadow underneath him.
But for the movement of his tail he might have been a stone lion, but Lucy never thought of that. She never stopped to think whether he as a friendly lion or not. She rushed to him. She felt her heart would burst if she lost a moment. And the next thing she knew was that she was kissing him, and putting her arms as far round his neck as she could and burying her face in the beautiful rich silkiness of his mane.
“Aslan, Aslan. Dear Aslan,” sobbed Lucy. “At last.”
The great beast rolled over on his side so that Lucy fell, half sitting and half lying between his front paws. He bent forward and just touched her nose with his tongue. His warm breath came all around her. She gazed up into the large wise face.
“Welcome, child,” he said.
“Aslan, “said Lucy, “You’re bigger.”
“That is because you are older, little one,” answered he.
“Not because you are?”
“I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger.”
In all these years having my heart gripped choked-tight by the Lord’s goodness and sovereignty, facing immense evil being done onto His people in Cambodia decades over decades over decades. In all these years especially in the remaining months as I look forward to turning 40, I do find Him bigger. He is always good and sovereign, whether I come to term about it or not has nothing to do with Him being I AM WHO I AM. Yet as I serve, as I pray, as I stand, after all that I have done, continue to stand, I truly find Him bigger, bigger than the last minute passed, bigger than the next minute await.
“That’s because you are older, jessy,” answered the Lord.
“Not because you are?” I asked.
“I am not, jessy. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger.”