He walks up the hill and sits on the ground. He who owns it all, who has a throne, sits on a hill, on the ground. He doesn’t go to a temple or church, made with hands that bleed. Hand that will one day return back to the earth, the medium from which they were molded. Hands that make an attempt to build a conduit for accessing God.
He sits on a hill, in the open; his followers then sit with him. The crowds draw near, desperate for a word, or a touch. Desperate to know that God knows their name, their situation, their need touch.
He sits, on a hill, which has no particular glory; not one of the holy hills – hills with history or prophesy, just a hill in Galilee. An everyday hill, talking to everyday people.
He is far from everyday. He is the everyday; everyday past, everyday present, everyday future, it is always present with Him, because He is always present.
We try to wrap our finite mind around the infinite.
He sits on an everyday hill and does the extraordinary.
Heaven is seated on the earth. Heaven is touching earth. The two are one in Him.
Does He look at the crowd and remember each one before the foundation of the earth, before the infant crawls into the womb? Does he run his hand across the grass and remember building with block the first blade?
He sits, and where he is, is a holy place.
I think of this as I walk into the studio. Smiling faces, warm morning light fills the room and reflects off of each face. Who would have ever though that the next hour would be such a holy place. A place where heaven intersects with earth; Where He who is the everyday, touches everyday people using everyday people.
The board lights up. Call after call, asking for prayer. Not ashamed to humble themselves when drawing near, asking for a word, or a touch asking to be a part of the Everyday intersecting our everyday.
I ask God to make me an empty conduit, just empty me, and then fill the conduit with Love, Your Love. Love that strengthens faith, love that encourages, love that believes the best, expects the best and wants us to do the same. The Everyday that wants your everyday to the be exception, the extraordinary, right where you are, next to him on an everyday hill.
Latest posts by Diane W. Bailey (see all)
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