This morning I sit on my couch for a few minutes and feel oh so thankful for all the little blessings that continually attend me. It is easy to feel confident in my own accomplishments and gathered goods and say that I have done this, that I have sowed and reaped and gathered and all that I possess is because I have done this or that. But really? What do I have that has not been given to me? What do I possess that I can claim is mine and mine alone? Am I so bold and sovereign to claim that I alone am the master of all that I survey? This is where the introspective soul looks inward and can potentially quail in terror and think that if I have no sovereignty in my own life, what then do I have and of what worth am I? Am I a worm, am I an ephemeral note upon the breeze, a dusting of moss upon the rock facing seaside? And then I look outward and see that I nakedly cling to this rock of a planet that rotates swift and moves in ordered dance throughout the seemingly void space of universal tapestry of being and wonder at my pride that I should think I am of any worth whatsoever when I possess the most miniscule fraction of energetic ability to do anything whatsoever in the momentary life that I lay claim to as birthright. So to combine the two – the inward look at self and worth or lack thereof and the outward look into the immensity of the chaotic void – and what do we come up with but sheer existential terror. It is not entirely a bad thing to be reminded of one’s place in the cosmos, but one must also understand the totality of being and realize there has been revelation of truth if we would have the eyes to see. This revelation echoes in the masterpiece of the heavens and in the conscience that whispers within and even now we hear music on the wind as we stand on the cliff at the edge of the sea and breathe deep of the rich oxygen that has been bestowed upon us by a being too great to comprehend by my aching broken mind. Because yes, this is where I stop looking in and stop looking out and simply stand still and wait to see the face of God. All I have seen in this life is a testimony to the existence of a being beyond myself that has in itself all sovereignty and inherent glory that I cannot claim as mine. I rejoice in that self-evident truth and sigh in satisfaction knowing that I can rest in God. There is nothing I claim as mine own even though my own pride weeps at the thought. Instead I look to the one who made me and acknowledge His claims to all including me. What can I claim? I can claim an inheritance that comes from calling this God my Father – and that is a mystery too wonderful to truly grasp. For how does this come about – acknowledging the eternal being that is God – that I should be his son? It is simple and it is fact and I do not have time to get into all the specifics, but I can be called a son because there was another, one who stepped out of the corridors of the eternal and clothed himself with the raiment of humanity and in a time-bound moment bled real blood and died a real death that I might receive eternal life and be clothed myself with the garments of immortality and receive an inheritance far too rich to be hoped or dreamed of – a life forever in communion with this God who my soul so longs for. And so as the chaotic void was brought to order with the introduction of a word, so the whirling existential dread of my life is brought to peace with the incarnation of this Word, God became flesh – this Jesus Christ who is my forever song. Amen, hallelujah, may my joy never cease. And it never will, but only heighten – for someday soon, someday soon, I shall in my own perfected flesh with my own perfected eyes look upon the risen Christ and quiver at the eternity that before me lies.