Читать книгу The Life We Claim - James C. Howell - Страница 16

When I look at your heavens, what is man that you are mindful of

him? Yet you crown him with glory and honor; you have given him

dominion over the works of your hands. (Psalm 8:3-6, AP)

To contemplate God as "Maker of heaven and earth" draws me out of myself and elicits a song, a sigh, a shout of praise. "Praise the Lord!" is the Bible's ringing invitation to us to be dumbfounded before the greatness of God. I think of God: my eyes fly open; I stop and notice the works of God all around me and inside me.

Praise is cheap nowadays; ads praise everything from soap to automobiles, mindless celebrities and the latest "American idol." But the only object ultimately worthy of our adoration is God. Instead of calculating how I might use God to get what I'm after, I simply praise God. Praise is amazed by God, thunderstruck by the power and tenderness at the heart of everything. Praise is not efficient, not productive of anything except a relationship with the Maker of the universe. Charles Wesley sang of being "lost in wonder, love and praise." His brother John, with his last dying breath, sang: "I'll praise my Maker while I have breath; and when my soul is lost in death, praise shall employ my nobler powers. My days of praise shall never be past."⁷

Praise is the cure for despair, as we dare not wind up like one of Pat Conroy's characters, whose "greatest fear was that he would be buried alive in that American topsoil of despair and senselessness where one felt nothing, where being alive was simply a provable fact instead of a ticket to a magic show."⁸ God's fantastically creative hand has strewn wonders all around this theater in which we find ourselves—and the least we can do is notice. Before God's magic we are reduced to slack-jawed wonder. We stop and smell the rose because the color and scent give glory to God. We shut off the lights and stare at the night sky. Christians pay attention; they notice, marvel, and give thanks.

If God is the Maker of heaven and earth, and of you and me, then my life is not my own. I depend upon God for every breath I take, for having a brain, energy, talent; it all belongs to God, and so my wishes do not count for much anymore. All that matters is what God wants me to do with my life that is really God's life, with my ability that is really God's, with my money that also is God's. My life is no longer self-indulgent, but I enjoy the privilege of serving the Maker of it all. If we believe God is the Maker and true owner, then it becomes our privilege to loosen our grip on whatever we have, and discover that our only real joy comes in what we pass along. If the whole world belongs to God, then we are a single family on this earth. Human divisions flutter away in the cool breeze of God's breath.

And if God is truly the Maker of heaven and earth, then we never lose hope. If I am made by God, then sticks and stones may break my bones, but I belong to God, and God has the power to bring me through any trial or suffering to God's good end for me. God's love is so voluminous, so touchingly personal, so unquenchable, that God made heaven—and our true citizenship rests in that future kingdom, not here on earth. Our destiny is with God, in heaven, and that heaven will make even the glorious wonders of this world pale by comparison.