I wish I could see His face, right now.
I wish Jesus would walk in my back door, help Himself to a cup of coffee, and pull up the chair across from mine. I don’t think He’d mind my pajamas or the dishes in my sink.
No offense, but if He did I’d close this laptop and not give this blog another thought. Because His Face.
I feel like it would make things better, like the painfully slow sunrise outside the kitchen window wouldn’t matter because He would be here. And I think in His eyes I would see what my heart needs.
I’m not even sure what my heart needs, besides Him. I know it needs Him.
I know I’m supposed to walk by faith and not by sight. I know that in some way I do see Him with unveiled face. I know that I meet Him in His Word and in prayer and that He is enough today, even when I can’t see Him.
But oh, there are days when it doesn’t feel like it could possibly be enough.
He told the disciples it would be better for Him to go away, so that they could receive the Holy Spirit– a Helper and Comforter who would lead them into all truth and give them the power that they needed for the work He was giving them.
Despite what my flesh– so physical, so bound to this earth and full of this earth– tells me, it is better to have the invisible Spirit within me. I am blessed when I believe without seeing. I know this, but still I long to see Him.
There will be a day.
I picture myself, in that crowd of His people, and I feel myself straining on tiptoes, searching for just one glimpse. And– you’ll forgive me if this is selfish– I imagine Him looking for me, too. I imagine our eyes meeting across the sea of faces and the smile on His face, and I know that in that moment everything will be okay. Because the One who loves me more than life itself will be there with me, finally in the flesh.
For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.
As we look to what is unseen. Only eyes of faith can do this. Faith is the evidence of things unseen.
Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.
Hope does not put us to shame. Another version says it does not disappoint. Because God’s love is available through the Holy Spirit with me. And it is enough.
My needy desire to see is weakness; I know this. Strong faith loves without seeing, trusts when everything is veiled. But my faith– it is weak and my heart longs to see.
What hope there is in that sweet promise that His strength is perfect in my weakness. He brings me here again and again– when I can’t be strong anymore and I long just for deliverance, when my faith seems so small it’s barely even there– He sees, He knows, and His grace is sufficient. His strength is still perfect.
Here is a hope that does not put me to shame.
The sunrise, when it finally comes, is glorious.