the weight of glory

Preface: I’ve been learning about the glory of the Lord recently. These are just my honest thoughts about it. They’re messy and confusing to read through, but I needed to write them down. Also, usually by doing so, I can turn them into a poem easier. 

“Then I saw in the right hand of him who was seated on the throne a scroll written within and on the back, sealed with seven seals. And I saw a mighty angel proclaiming with a loud voice ‘Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?’ And no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the scroll or to look into it, and I began to weep loudly because no one was found worthy to open the scroll or to look into it. And one of the elders said to me, ‘Weep no more; behold the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David has conquered so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.’” Revelation 5:1-5

I’ve been learning more about the glory of the Lord: the magnitude of his limitless power; the astronomic diversity his presence manifests itself; his incomparable holiness that brings man, made of iron and dust, falling to his knees- the weight of his glory.

This is the first time I do not haste when I take a drink. Instead I let the living water touch my cracked and bleeding lips and saturate my skin as I feel matter itself rush down my throat. I drink and I’m satisfied.  I feel the Spirit stirring in the atmosphere, making his presence known and the glory of the Lord illuminate the greyness I often feel. Reflections of light are dancing on the surface of this water because it’s alive.

Because it brings life.

I know this to be true, and that’s why the revelations of holiness concede justified anger. There are so many times when I throw a royal fit and I scream and kick and beat my fists against his solid chest of righteousness because I don’t understand how my loving and gracious Father can let love die between a couple of twenty years, can let a woman taste the force of a man’s fist, can let children be eaten up by their own stomachs…

The list goes on. I don’t comprehend.

Come into play: free will. Not just me, but every single person on earth that has ever lived, lives, and will ever live, has the gift of free will and whether we like to believe it or not, the way I exercise my freedom will often affect your life and vice versa. My God isn’t an advocate for violence or hunger or suffering. He’s an advocate for freedom; He’s given us the freedom to live as we choose.

There is blood on my hands.

But God.

I choose you and I say ‘I do.’ I’m draped in robes of righteousness. I take the weight of glory on as my own, my responsibility to magnify, and it becomes even more pressing. It’s hard to breathe and hard to stand. Your weight of glory is so heavy, God, and I am to bear it? But this weight of glory is something my hands cannot weigh or hold for its overflowing abundance of holiness is something that burns me to the touch. My eyes cannot see it for it is blinding. It’s not a matter of a lacking in human capacity- it’s a matter of humans simply can’t.

It (You) cannot be defined. It (You) cannot be limited.

Come into play: faith.

C.S. Lewis said “This is why He warned people to ‘count the cost’ before becoming Christians.” I’ve learned that this is a radical man’s faith- one that goes against every natural instinct I have. I’ve learned I’m in love with a lamb that is also a lion. I’ve learned there will be a wedding day, but first a war, and like with any war, there will be casualties. I’ve learned that the more I fall in love with the flawless, holy, immaculate character; I discover just how depraved, corrupt, and perverted I am. I’ve learned although I will spend my time in this present flesh striving to reflect your pure blinding light- a light void of darkness- it will never be so.

I remain unworthy.

But that’s why I’m here: because I know you’re the only one who is. It’s a hard process I don’t fully understand, and I can’t articulate it beautifully, or simply, or even at all.  I can’t measure the weight of his glory. And sometimes it sucks. It sucks to play the role of “believer” when all I want to be is the “seer,” but my God, it’s worth it.  For one day, I will see.

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