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I was scratching the interior walls of the chicken coop of my soul
looking for that one magic word that might do the trick and painlessly effect
the necessary adjustment to my woefully out-of-joint attitude. It all seemed futile for quite
a while, which I swiftly interpreted as a sure indication of the incredible
complexity of our diversity-on-steroids situation that clearly outstripped even
God’s capacity to handle….
It doesn’t always happen like this, but I was sitting on the floor
in the middle of a mess of papers, and books and different mobile devices when suddenly
my eye falls on the page of a letter
Paul wrote to his friends who lived so far away that he had to write
letters to them rather than just send them a quick text or even Skype them….
And these were the words that gently tapped on the murky window of my despairing
chicken-cooped-up soul….
So spacious is he, so roomy, that everything of God finds its
proper place in him without crowding. Colossians 1:19
So… spacious…
So… roomy…
It was like this old guy, Paul, was reading
pages after pages of my journal entries without my knowing it and then responding
to them in a message supposedly written to somebody else...
He talks here about space.
Plenty of space.
He talks about roominess. Plenty of room.
For me?
For us? For my outrageously diverse - multicultural, multigerational, multilingual - family?
For all of GOD!
There is so much room inside
this Person, this Jewish carpenter, Jesus, the Christ… Plenty of room, plenty
of space to fit us all in, to contain not just us but GOD Himself – without crowding!
This is not some cup and saucer theology we are looking at.
It's not some cosmic chicken coop religion we
are talking about here. This is a living, pulsating MEGA-mansion of the Soul, that even Donald
Trump can’t build!
And yet, it's 'container' is an ordinary flesh-and-blood human being... who was once a baby!
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