A compact ball composed of a swirling mass of dirty colours, pulsating, threatening to explode. Malignant in nature, raw and exposed. Nothing tidy about it at all. Fear, anger, regret, shame, disgust, envy, pride, they’re all in there somewhere, contained in that ball Inside Out-style. It feels warm to touch in my hand, like a kettle about to boil over.
Not for the first time, I’m self conscious as I approach the throne. Not even thinking about anyone else in the room looking at my hesitant steps forward. Because once I’ve looked at Him, nothing else commands my attention. It’s everything I’m not. He’s everything I’m not. Radiant, resplendent, regal, white and with a light that’s not quite painfully bright but seems to lay my soul bare. I know I can’t hide anything away.
So I continue my walk towards Him, painfully aware of the pulsating ball in my hands, of my clothes, once my best suit now torn and stained – stains that I can’t seem to get off easily.
Words echo through my mind. Grace. Faith. I’m not afraid. Nor condemned. I know where I stand with Him. I just wish I had something better to give, to show for myself. Even though I know he won’t ever be disappointed in me, I’m disappointed in me. But I want rest.
“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith, and this not from yourselves; it is the gift of God, not by works, so that no one can boast.” Eph 2:8-9
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Matt 11:28
I reach the throne. Looking up, I try to meet God’s gaze and suddenly we’re alone. At the last moment, I feel like taking back the swirling mass in my hands, and being anywhere but here. But I stick out my hand and give the ball over to Him.
He takes it in His hands – I want to tell Him not to look, not to examine it, to get rid of it as quickly as possible. Not bearing to look, I close my eyes. I feel a hand on my shoulder. “My son.”
“Never doubt the extent of my love for you. I created you and know you through and through and am not finished with you yet. There will be battles and victories, joy and sorrow but remember this: you are my son, and I love my children.”
Opening my eyes I see a ball of gentle blue and gold in His hands, and looking down, notice the stains and tears in my clothes are gone, in fact, I wonder if they were ever there before.
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Rom 8:37-39)