Inching Ahead with Abraham – Mercy Aiken
There are grand things within us that are beyond identification though we feel them moving in our depths like shadows that have not yet burst through to our waking consciousness; things we KNOW, but cannot yet articulate. (Oh, the pain of it!) We must penetrate these depths within us if we can—but for what purpose? Time buries the treasures of one generation so that they must be unearthed by the next, only to be buried again. We’re like the restless waves of the ocean that inch forward only to retreat and endlessly repeat the same again. In this grand parade of human history, in this the fleeting passage of every life, maybe all we really have is the same human story repeated over and over again in a variety of contexts. And yet, I hope that we are inching forward somehow. We’ve just emerged from perhaps the bloodiest century (at least the most dangerous) of human history, and barely into the new millennium it seems the only thing we’ve learned is how to continue World War. The masses of all the nations are still as easily manipulated by the profiteers in power as they ever were.
What is one little fleeting life against all this? And will the things I learn actually do some good for another?
And yet. Lately, my encouragement comes from Abraham. My friend, Abraham. It’s only recently that I’ve fallen in love with him. I’ve walked with him through the Land of Promise. I’m discovering its length and width; its valleys and obscure alcoves. I sit with him under the shade of the Great Tree, “Moreh”, which means Teacher. Like Abraham, and his son the Christ, I dwell in tents. I have no permanent abode, other than the Voice which has become my soul’s home. Along with Abraham, I am content to let others fight and contend for their “better portion” now. I will wait for my greater inheritance. Like him, I feel the tyranny of time tempting me to disbelief—that the Promise will not be accomplished. And after falling in weakness and despair into the dust, I hear His Voice saying, “Trust Me. Trust Me. Trust Me.” And so, like Abraham, I build an altar with my tears. I cry, “Lord, You are my portion forever” and He whispers, “I Am your exceedingly great reward!”
Against all that appeared to be reality, Abraham believed that God IS, that God is GOOD, and that He is working through man, in behalf of man, unto a glorious conclusion. Our little lives are bigger than our individuality. Abraham knew this. Our quest to walk with Him, our feeble obedience to the knowledge of the Holy mean something grander than we can imagine. The elusive wisdom we feel within us—this remains and is born into the light of Day. And it’s not our strength that brings forth the Great Understanding but HIS. Our part is only to trust and obey through the nonsense of human history.
From our diverse experiences of understanding and faith, there emerges a great picture woven from the threads of all those who have known Him—even if the treasure of their life appears to be lost in obscurity, their wisdom buried, their faith forgotten.
There are grand things within us that are beyond identification though we feel them moving in our depths like shadows that have not yet burst through to our waking consciousness; things we KNOW, but cannot yet articulate. (Oh, the pain of it!) We must penetrate these depths within us if we can—but for what purpose? Time buries the treasures of one generation so that they must be unearthed by the next, only to be buried again. We’re like the restless waves of the ocean that inch forward only to retreat and endlessly repeat the same again. In this grand parade of human history, in this the fleeting passage of every life, maybe all we really have is the same human story repeated over and over again in a variety of contexts. And yet, I hope that we are inching forward somehow. We’ve just emerged from perhaps the bloodiest century (at least the most dangerous) of human history, and barely into the new millennium it seems the only thing we’ve learned is how to continue World War. The masses of all the nations are still as easily manipulated by the profiteers in power as they ever were.
But nothing in God is lost or hidden, and He reverently holds the strands of such faith and weaves them into the Face that Abraham saw. The most beautiful Face, the Face of Christ—and who are we to be a part of this Visage? Who are we to appear with Him in glory, in His great unveiling?
But here is His trustworthy tenderness: He loses nothing. He is able to keep all that we have committed to Him. He will bring us forth in glorious, diverse expressions of Perfection. He will make us the womb that births Wisdom, His very Bethlehem, the fount from which His glory covers the earth. And the life that is hidden in Him—though it may lose everything loses nothing.