28:20

And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.

Jesus’ heart of comfort disarms me.

Often, when I find myself overwhelmed with the faces and fears that life consists of, I turn to the gospels to read Jesus’ words.  He tells me not to worry about tomorrow, not to worry about what I wear. 
It’s so tough sometimes. I read those words, and I breathe deeply, and that feeling of freshness, of repair, fills my chest. 

I wonder if worrying is a luxury that Christians cannot afford.

The person who worries is the person who fears they have no control. Whether that is of a job placement, or schooling, or a friendship, it is a fear of being out of control. Even when we worry about others, it is us fearing that they are out of control, or that we can’t control them.  Of course then, Jesus would need to address the problem, for at the very heart of the gospel, we find a relinquishing of control, do we not?  We find a giving of one’s plans, one’s love, one’s hope, fear, faith, doubt, - one’s life to the master creator, the master designer.

This designer who is creative, who has an imagination, and a plan, and a heart of compassion, takes the voids, and he creates.  He plants a garden in the rubble.

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The creating heart of God is incurable. We learn immediately that "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." Out of the "Formless and empty" earth, God made life.

He was in control of it all, trees and rivers, mountains and mud flats. It was all a product of what is His immense imagination. The irreducible complexity of even detail was important to Him, it was all part of the fun.

It would have been beautiful on its own, just like that.  Rivers flowing, breezes blowing, trees swaying, and birds playing. And He knew that. He knew that it was good.

But he wasn't done.

He knew how beautiful His creation was, all following the natural order of things. The tree would bend to the wind, the ground would break to the paw, everything cooperating.

Was it enough?

Could this satisfy the desire to create that burned deep in the furnace of love?

Everything was beautiful, everything was good, but had there been a climax? Had there been a moment when the collage of colours and ideas had been fully realized?

It was all beautiful, it was all good, but it was all about to change.

Out of the very image of all that is true, out of the image of all that is right, out of the image of all that is just, and patient, God created man and woman.

It all made sense. The stirring music of nature had been building and growing, getting ready, the wind had been searching for the answer, and there it was.

God would befriend his creatures. God would Father them.

God would do what was necessary to interact with them.

And God had created a place to live with them.

A Home.

It was a Home that wasn't going to leave, it was a place they could dwell in, it was a place of stories, it was a safe place to sleep at night (or whenever, I'm sure afternoon naps were allowed), it was a place that they could look after one another, a place that they could live in unity, and relation with the nature around them. They were not residents of this place, but inhabitants. This place would affect who they would become, and it was a place that they would consider part of them, and a place they would return to.

It was a home for the Creator, as well as the creature.

They owed it all to Him, the One who chose to create.

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"You wanted us like you, as choosers not clones"

-Bruce Cockburn

A home to beauty itself.  The place of obedience and affection.

But you’ve heard the story, you know how it goes.

It didn’t stay the way it was meant to.

He chose to create home, and us, its inhabitants. He gave us his own ability to make decisions, and we used that ability to break his creation.

The home that was built on love and solidarity, the home that the Creator took such joys in composing, the home that made him laugh and sing, and smile, was a broken home.

This was no longer a place of safety.

The comfort had left this space.

The confidence in communion was no longer with them.

These creatures, who were once co-inhabitants with the Creator, were sent into exile.

And they owed it all to Him.

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The home had been broken. The beauty that once was, was gone.

Birth became painful, growing food became toil.

This was a dull, empty void compared to what was before.

The creation had failed.

The creator had not.

Think about it, what is a void to the One who created all things out of nothing in the first place?

This was exile, but it wasn't the end. The home that had been was taken, protected, and in their hearts it was replaced by a longing, a memory, a hope.

A void, to the Creating one, is an opportunity to be creative.

He would not leave them alone, He would grow a people out of them, and He would conduct, as the story of life played out.

The home is to be restored, and this time, the home-wrecking people are going to be part of the process. This is an imaginative master.



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When you are experiencing worry and trouble, it is often directly related to something that grieves you.  A sense of Longing is very deep in your heart, the longing for something, or someone who means very much to you. Or perhaps it’s the longing for something to be alleviated.   Either way, it is the concern for something that is close to your heart, and although you may not have the friend anymore, you may not have the family anymore, but you cling to that longing because it’s all that you have left of what was once true.

It is very close to your heart. 

If worrying is a luxury that Christians can’t afford, and instead they are called to surrender their worries, I become terrified.
It is no longer as simple as taking deep breaths and closing eyes.
This surrender calls for the complete emptying of one’s heart, of one’s love, of one’s identity.

This is a painful thing.  How are you supposed to give up that which is so close to your heart? That which is all that remains of what I once cherished?
If I give that up, I will be empty.

If I release that from the bonds of my heart, I will have nothing, there will be emptiness in me, there will be a void.

A void?  

My heart will be formless and empty.

Those are familiar words..

In the dark, formless, empty space of your pained heart, the Creator sees neither failure, nor disappointment, but he sees a story, a story for which he died, that he will help you write it.

Jesus’ heart of comfort disarms me,

It causes me to breathe deeply and behold that indeed, He is with me always, to the ends of the age.