TITLE: Seeing the Invisible 6/18/14
By Richard McCaw
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Seeing the Invisible
Sooner or later it may hit you like a bombshell that every one of us is programmed for intimacy. From that first cry outside our mother’s womb, we become attached to her security, warmth and affection.
Would you want a friend busy with research at the South Pole when you live at the North Pole? Who wants a friend so far away and so busy? If God exists, is He too far off and too occupied overseeing everything to be in touch? Can I be intimate with the God of the universe?
In our process of socialization, intimacy definitely rides high on our list of needs! Without it many teenagers lose their way until they team up with angry, rebellious peers who are often trapped in drugs, sexual immorality or perversion.
A teenager once told me, “Church people just put on an act. Why listen to that fake stuff, when I can play with my video games, or watch TV?” Soon, he entered the hip-hop world, where stars attack society and religion. Some teenagers join gangs, some commit murder while prison doors swing wide open to welcome them. Others simply give up and commit suicide.
I had already been bored with religious rituals. Not having a father or brother with whom to play, I was looking for intimacy. Here’s how I found it.
The Monday night following my profession of faith, my mother decided to take my sister and me back to church.
“Church tonight?” I could have objected. “Didn’t we go to church last night?” My personal revolution against imagined tyrannical rule could have started just then. However, something more than the ordinary must have happened deep inside me. I never argued, but went along willingly. I remember the date because it was my thirteenth birthday!
It was prayer meeting night, and when we arrived we sat beside our mother at the back of the church. Like everyone else I bowed my head, then leaned my forehead against the long wooden bench before me and peeped through my fingers. A tall black man with stubby grey hair stood before one of the front row seats. I had seen him while traveling on the bus. He had one eye and I remember him boasting loudly about Norman Manley, his political leader. Now every few moments I could make out the words, “Daddy Jesus….” as he prayed in broken English.
I opened my eyes wide and looked over the heads of the people sitting in front of me. “What on earth is going on? This man sounded like he was talking intimately to a God in supreme control of everything and calling Him ‘Daddy.’ My ears pricked up. That was the kind of thing I was looking for. It made a whole lot of sense to me that if there is a God, I should like to be in close contact with Him!
To some, belief in prayer, that a God above in Heaven has children on earth and hears their heart’s cry is pure fantasy! After all, Christians are talking to someone they cannot see. Furthermore, some argue, you never hear this God answering them. They seem like children acting out a game, talking into the air. Besides, they close their eyes, and some even contort their faces in strange grimaces. For many, it is too much to believe, and reminds them of fairy stories in which innocent children believe!
Nevertheless, the sincere cry of that Christian to God reached somewhere deep down in me. Every child needs that kind of influence. Although they may not understand every thing, the cry of a human heart to God can strike a chord in a child’s spirit and ultimately echo a response in the future. One ancient hymn says, “Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire, uttered or unexpressed...the Christian’s vital breath, the Christian’s native air.”
My mother must have understood what had happened to me. At bedtime in the days afterwards, she would call out to me, “Richard!” Green board walls stared at me as I sat on my bed in my tiny room probably flipping pages of a superman comic. It was all new to me. “If you are going to become a strong Christian,” she kept saying, “you must read the Bible every day!”
I could have shot back, “Are you trying to make me into a saint?” but only murmured “Hmmm...Hmm!”. In the following days, she kept after me about the Bible. I could have regarded her like one regards an annoying mosquito that keeps singing in one’s ears. However, God was working in my spirit, and I did not rebel.
Soon a deep thirst kept nudging me to search the scriptures. With a concordance Bible she had bought me I devoured it voraciously reading it through several times. Taking me to church prayer meeting and continually encouraging me to read the Word of God was the best thing she ever did for me. Her loving persistence paid off finally as I began to find answers to life’s deepest questions. The Hound of Heaven was constantly after me through my mother, drawing me to Him.
After Abram met Melchizedek, priest of the Most High God he confessed that God was ‘El Elyon,’ possessor of heaven and earth.1 Daniel, also, knew that the Most High governed in the kingdom of men.2 The Hebrew term always suggested ‘the highest in a series.’ Thus, Jehovah holds the highest position in the Universe, angels being subject to Him, and men, lower than angels. Every dominion including Satan and demons falls below Him. He is Jehovah-El Elyon, the Most High God. There is none above Him in rank and authority. He is mighty and greatly to be praised. To Him belongs all glory and our deepest worship!
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