Living by the ocean, I am continually fascinated by the immensity of the sea, the seemingly disconnected set of rules it has in behavior. The waves appear wild and unpredictable, but unseen forces are always at work in them. I feel so small when I scan the horizon and realize that the sunset I see is due in part to the roundness of the earth. And when the moon rises and pulls the water to make tides, I can almost feel the connectedness of our closest satellite.
Which reminds me of Jesus.
Paul, in his letter to the Colossians, writes these really intriguing words:
And He Himself existed and is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. [His is the controlling, cohesive force of the universe.] Colossians 1:17 (AMP)
Now, I'm not saying that God is gravity, but it got me thinking; if Jesus is the one by whom all things (not just on this earth, but the whole universe) are held together -- and the word we use to describe the invisible force that holds the people on a planet, and the planets around stars, and the stars in their galaxies, and the galaxies around each other -- even in a universe that's expanding -- is gravity. Then maybe looking at gravity is a way to get to know Jesus a little bit closer.
Take, for example, the vastness of the pull of gravity. I find it hard to wrap my mind around the vast power of Jesus, BUT I can understand the gravitational forces of planets and satellites and it gives me a small glimpse into the one who holds all things together. Thinking of Jesus in this way expands my mind.
I know how difficult it is to pull away from that gravity, what a strain it is on rockets and systems. That establishing an orbit is so much easier because you can depend on the mathematical constant of the pull of gravity to keep you falling at the same rate and, if you align yourself just right, you can stay close without falling in.
And then I wonder. How hard do I work to fight Jesus, or just keep an orbit around him, instead of surrendering to his constant pull? By seeing the spiritual fight/ drift, my soul is expanded.
Here on earth, I count on our 1G -- Earth's gravitation is its own unit -- to help me navigate and understand the world around me. I can feel going away from the pull of gravity when I climb the hill, and I feel the aid of gravity going back down. But I rarely remark upon it. It just is. I am so accustomed to it.
What if Jesus' presence is the same way? Could I become more attuned to the times I strain against Jesus' pull, or feel the pleasure of coasting straight toward him? It's easy to ignore, but I think life would be so much richer if I paid attention to the pull of Jesus the same way I can pay attention to the pull of gravity. Being reminded of his presence by the ever-present pull of the earth expands my physical senses.
And while we're talking about the constancy of gravity and Jesus, isn't it remarkable? When I drop an item, and it falls to the floor, you will often hear me say, "Gravity test!" It always works. Never once has gravity failed me. Even in space, far outside the solar system, the gravity of the sun can still reach.
Jesus has a similar consistency and vast reach. There is no place I can go beyond his pull. Not one test will come up with a failed result.
Life without gravity could be fun for a moment but is really disorienting. You literally can't know which way is up. Nothing stays in place without tethers and even the simplest movements have unintended consequences. Life without Jesus seems rather similar.
And there it is, all from that one little idea that Paul writes about Jesus -- the one in whom all things are held together.
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