We’re learning to see Christ in the boring, the painful, and the mildly ridiculous as well as in the beautiful small.
We’re fighting for our moments and seeing ways He shows up in our right-now life.
We’re grown-ups and we know the importance of remembering how He’s been faithful in the past and anticipating how He might show Himself in our future.
Christ with us in the everyday moments – the ones we can touch, the ones we walk through, the ones we sometimes roll our eyes at or dread – this is what makes up our whole life.
Christ Himself is here, among us.
But we are not merely visible people, we also have an invisible world stirring beneath our skin.
We have the power to spin the invisible into something we can see through our choices and our words – it sounds mythical, but really it’s just living.
A feeling of empathy becomes a warm meal delivered by a neighbor.
A desire to connect becomes an email invitation extended to a friend.
A loss becomes a melody in the hands of a musician.
A difficult concept is worked out through story on a writer’s page.
We know that He is before all things and in Him all things hold together (Col. 1:17).
That means Jesus doesn’t only live in the serving, the invitation, the finished song or story. He doesn’t only show Himself in the part we can touch and hold in our hands.
He lives in the action, yes. But he also dwells in the longing – just as important, but sometimes more difficult to honor.
He lives in our imagination as well as the daily grind.
The empathy came first, then the meal.
The desire for connection came first, then the email.
The loss came first, then the song.
The longing to understand came first, then the story.
As we continue to learn what it means to meet Him in the produce aisle at the grocery store, in that quiet conversation with a friend, in that frustrating moment with grumpy children, or from behind piles of paperwork on our office desk, may we also learn what it means to meet Him in our imagination.
Let’s pay attention to the thoughts before the action, to the longing before the move.
He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.
He could have shared His love with the world in any number of ways.
But He asks us to have faith in something we can’t see, hands the Gospel to mere men, and shares His love through story.
He is asking us to honor the sacred space of our imagination.
May the wisdom of our grown up hearts sing well with our childlike curiosity.
May we not be so quick to dismiss what we cannot see with our eyes.
May we be willing to see His face in the tangibles and the intangibles.
As we wake up to imagination, may it be shaped around the image of God.
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