How Big is Your God?

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the LORD.

 For as the heavens are higher than the earth,

so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.

Isaiah 55:8,9

I stood before Him in a place that I cannot describe.  There are no words in our world which could in any way explain His world. But as I stood there, in a place where time does not exist–where there is no sun to mark the days or hours, no earth on which to ride, no universe–one small object caught my attention.

It was a small round object which hung in the air before Him.  About the size of a large marble, it seemed to be alive, pulsating and spinning, and yet not moving at all.

“You wonder at this,” He asked, His gaze focusing on the thing.

“Yes, what is it.” I questioned, not able to pull my gaze from it.

In an instant, it grew in size, sparkling and shimmering in radiance, and yet dull compared to all that surrounded me.  “It is your world,” He said quietly as it continued to grow.

Soon we were standing in the midst of it, and His world faded away.  Darkness replaced the atmosphere that had seemed to be light itself, and the marble lost its shape–I could not see its edge.

“This is your universe,” He said once more.  His words were few, but they expressed more meaning than I seemed to be able to comprehend.

As I looked around, it seemed as though I was moving down an empty corridor, walking on nothing yet not falling. All around me bright objects began to come into focus, and I realized that they were galaxies. Exploding nebula swirled and shimmered like the whips of fog I had once watched rising from an early morning by the lake.  We skirted closer to a group of stars, weaving our way among them as I might have done on skis, dashing between trees down a mountain slope in my world.

In the distance, a tiny spot began to grow as we headed straight for it.  Something looked familiar about it as it grew and took shape.  Then I realized that it was my own galaxy, the entirety of the piece in my nighttime sky which we called The Milky Way.  I laughed as I saw it from His viewpoint and wondered at His patience with our attempts to describe His world!

Millions of lights burst into my sight, and I drew close to Him as the atmosphere thickened with light and starry brightness. Everything was moving at an overwhelming speed, until once again, the air cleared and directly below us was my own solar system, as I remembered it from a textbook, spinning with exact precision like the gears in my cuckoo clock. Indeed, the air began to tremble and tick with time.

We dropped closer and closer to earth, breaking through the atmosphere as the oceans became visible, then mountains and rivers and cities and buildings…and roads…and trees…and my home.  There is was, just as I remembered it!

A dull ached filled my chest as I remembered.  Memories flashed through my mind of another life, and I wondered at its smallness.  It seemed so insignificant, and I found myself longing to be back in His world.

In an instant, the light swallowed me and I was once again in His presence, in His world, gazing on the insignificant little orb–my old world, the universe that had been completely beyond human comprehension–once again, it shimmered and danced before Him, and I understood.


This is My Father’s World

This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
His hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father’s world, the birds their carols raise,
The morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker’s praise.
This is my Father’s world: He shines in all that’s fair;
In the rustling grass I hear Him pass;
He speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father’s world. O let me ne’er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father’s world: the battle is not done:
Jesus Who died shall be satisfied,
And earth and Heav’n be one.

This is my Father’s world, dreaming, I see His face.
I ope my eyes, and in glad surprise cry, “The Lord is in this place.”
This is my Father’s world, from the shining courts above,
The Beloved One, His Only Son,
Came—a pledge of deathless love.

This is my Father’s world, should my heart be ever sad?
The lord is King—let the heavens ring. God reigns—let the earth be glad.
This is my Father’s world. Now closer to Heaven bound,
For dear to God is the earth Christ trod.
No place but is holy ground.

This is my Father’s world. I walk a desert lone.
In a bush ablaze to my wondering gaze God makes His glory known.
This is my Father’s world, a wanderer I may roam
Whate’er my lot, it matters not,
My heart is still at home.

While a pas­tor in Lock­port, New York, Maltbie D.Bab­cock liked to hike inan ar­ea called “the es­carp­ment,” an an­cient up­thrust ledge near Lock­port. It has a mar­vel­ous view of farms, or­chards, and Lake On­tar­io, about 15 miles dis­tant. It is said those walks in the woods in­spired these lyr­ics. The ti­tle re­calls an ex­press­ion Bab­cock used when start­ing a walk: “I’m go­ing out to see my Fa­ther’s world.”

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