The majesty of creation:
The Grand Canyon.
The Tetons.
The Redwoods.
Niagara Falls.
The work of a Master Craftsman.
The testimony of the inanimate.
The glory of the Lord.
I imagine the wounds carved into Jesus' flesh when I consider the Grand Canyon. The gash where the spear entered His side. The savage look of the nail holes in his feet and hands. The distance between Father and Son as my sin was piled on the Son. As wrath was poured out. And how my sin was left on one side but how I walked across that vast gulf on the Cross to reach the open arms of God.
I consider the Grand Tetons and the impassable mountains He has moved in my life. The crippling effects of sin and pathetic decisions. The climb I cannot climb. The Hand that has lifted me over or annihilated obstacles into oblivion like a volcanic blast. Or, more often, the Father who walks beside me as I climb and shows me the impassable is passable with Him.
I consider the ancient growth of the redwood and the growth in my life. The collection of believers that is rooted together in Christ: the Church. The Redeemed who have experienced forgiveness and are free to grow into the heavens together.
But the image left burning in my heart from last night is the cleansing power of Christ's death and resurrection. The cleansing blast that is more powerful than the waters of Niagara Falls. I imagine my sinful self standing at the bottom of the falls in all my failure and arrogance. And I imagine the full impact of the water hitting me as my Father cups me in His hand holding me in its power, saving me from the trauma somehow but allowing the intense flow to blast the muck from my heart. And how He allows the flow to carry me away in worship. And how I can't help but praise Him.
The earth speaks His glory to me:
WORTHY!
[Not Niagara Falls]
