the earth is the Lord's

I have one thing left.


There used to be a lot more. God took it all, as is His prerogative. “The earth is the Lord’s,” the Psalmist says, “and all that is in it.” Terrifying thought, that. If the earth is the Lord’s, there’s not much left for us. I suppose, if it’s all His in the first place, then He can take any of it back without asking permission. I’ve seen Him do it, many times.

We’re fond of talking about letting Jesus into your heart. It’s a great line for kids – cute little picture. What we don’t tell them is Jesus’ size. How he is so big and so real and your heart is so small that there is simply no room for him unless he guts you first. And whenever you ask him to scoot over so that you can move something else in, He rips it out of your hands and chucks it into his Father’s furnace that burns and burns and burns.

A year ago, Jesus had me, I suppose, right where he wanted me. I didn’t have a dime. I didn’t have a home. I didn’t really have a job. I didn’t have any future ambitions, or goals, or plans. God had stripped me naked, and He may have been very well pleased with my state (maybe not though. I don’t really know beans about God.)

All those things we talk about giving to Jesus, I had given away. I was a man without a thing. I lived in a church in Chicago. I existed on the kindness of friends. I was angry. I didn’t have much to offer, and I had nothing to own. And then…I got one thing.

One Thing. And, as soon as it looked like it might be mine, I walled it up and kicked God out. Here was something that He would not be invading.

No, no, no, God – not this time. I’ve seen what you do with my stuff. Knowing you, you’ll want this too, and I’m telling you – this time, it’s mine. Mine, mine, mine! Do you know the meaning of that word?! Or do you, in your infinite and boundless greed, see nothing here but one more thing to add to your horde?!

I did everything I could to keep Him out. Anything I could think of. Even going so far as to paying lip service to Him really governing it (I knew better. I know better.) and I tried to earn it. Tried to make it mine, to prove that God is Heaven is not the only one who can make something beautiful. And I thought, perhaps, if God could learn to occupy His proper place in my life – as a sort of pet that I could indulge and look after and who would in turn keep me company and get me friends – then, perhaps, all would be well. I carved a line down the middle of my heart. You, God, are on that side. I am on this side. Please, don’t touch anything else.

Please, please, God – I’m begging you. Don’t touch anything. I know what you want, and I know that you say you make all things new but I don’t want you in this one. Just, please. Leave me alone this time. I’ve given you so much. I’ve sacrificed a lot. Give me one thing – it isn’t asking so much. Just one thing, and I swear, the rest is yours. Just give me space. Leave me be for a while. This…I love this more than I’ve ever loved anything and I’m worried that you’ll take it because that’s what you do you take the things I love most and I understand that it’s because you love me but you understand, don’t you, that I just want for once in my life to love something without having to drop it into your hands and I do love this so much so please. Please. Don’t. Touch. Anything.

But the earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it.

And God, being Who He Is, didn’t listen.

Because our hearts are small, and there is no room for “God and…” He’ll have His cake and eat it too, and then He’ll have seconds. He wants to love of all of you, and to do that He has to possess all of you. He wants to save all of you, and to do that He has to own all of you. And He’ll pin you down like Isaac on the alter and scoop out every ounce of your flesh, peeling layer after layer after layer after layer after layer after layer after layer after layer after layer after layer after layer until you’re looking up at Him, swollen and skinless – without a thing in the world to call your own. And you turn to Him, because what else can you possibly do?

And He’s crying too, because He loves you so very much, and He hates to hurt the things He loves but if He doesn’t how could He save them? And they don’t know how important it is, to give it all up so He has to take them away, pry their hands off and toss the things into His Father’s furnace (that burns and burns.) And then He holds them. Then He holds you. Then He holds me.

And, impossibly, I’m new.

-

I have one thing left. I can’t really explain what it is, or why it means anything to me – it’d be worthless to anyone else. If you saw it, you’d throw it away without a thought. Someday, maybe, I will too. But, right now, it’s all I have.

And God, I fear, is coming for it next.


“I am God’s servant. Let it be done to me as you have said.” – Mary, mother of God.