the art of relating

Ever get so caught up in the idea of God you forget He was once a man just like us?

Relating to God has been my struggle lately.


I've read countless hours of writings, listened to countless hours of commentary and podcasts, and watched countless hours of videos all trying to wrap my head around who God is.


Deep theology from the smartest and most knowledgable experts on the subject have expanded my understanding of God and have absolutely blown my mind.

I love hearing or reading something that blows my heart up with the truth that God is even bigger than I ever imagined He was.


This happens daily.


The problem for me has been as my angle of God grows wider, relating to him as a person becomes more difficult.


As it's become easier for me to see Him as the omnipotent and all-powerful creator He is, I've lost focus on the God who lived a human life on Earth, experienced the same struggles and emotions I experience, and cared for me enough to die on my behalf.


For lack of better terms, understanding "BIG" God is pointless without understanding "small" God too.


I was recently challenged by my closest friends to remember the last time I cried.


I couldn't. And it scared me.


I have never wanted to cry more in my life than I have during this season, but I couldn't seem to let it out.


They challenged me to be intentional about tapping back into my emotions to overcome the numbness I was beginning to feel. So, I cleared my schedule Sunday evening, brewed some tea, got in bed, and laid there in silence.


I didn't hear God speak audibly. I didn't feel God move physically. But, I was shown what I was missing.


I was so focused on God, I lost sight of Jesus; the man.


Just then, a rush of creative energy and an idea for a poem was planted in my head.


I had a decision to make.


Do I act and spend the next few hours bringing this poetic concept to fruition? Or, do I let the opportunity pass and wait for God to speak in another way.


Thankfully, I chose the former.

-----

“A man like me”


The prophets, they talked of his coming to save.

They saw Him long before He arrived.


What a joyous day it must have been

when the star shown bright in the sky.


Born of a virgin, a King took the stage

in as humble a set as one could.

Near donkey and sheep, the baby cried out

in a manger of hay and of wood.


For this child was different than any before

He embodied the whole trinity .


But more than a God or the spirit of Christ,

This child was a man just like me.


He had toys, he had friends, he laughed quite a lot.

He would play with a smile full of glee.


But as similar as He seemed, there was something much more.

Not your average kid from Galilee.


He was raised by a man, a carpenter’s son.

He was taught to do work with His hands.


He grew in his knowledge, He grew in the word.

He learned and obeyed its commands.


The authority He had at such a young age,

those who heard could hardly believe.


But more than anointed or omnipotent,

This boy was a man just like me.


He had struggles, He felt pain, He toiled with His craft.

He awoke in the morning, and slept at night.


He ate bread, he drank wine, he got sick time to time,

A well-cooked meal brought him great delight.


But it wasn’t what He ate, but who He ate with,

and how He was able to share.


From tax collectors to sinners, turning water to wine,

feeding thousands from what seemed like thin air.


Baptized with water and raised to new life

was this miracle worker to be.

But more than a prophet, a sage or a saint,

this teacher was a man just like me.


He was tempted and tested, He was hungry and weak. Thoughts raced around in His head.

He held true to the God who offers us life,

and rejected the prince of the dead.


He wore shirts and wore sandals, had beard on his face.

He got blisters, and cuts from the walks.


But everywhere He went, the crowd would amass

doing whatever it took to hear this man talk.


His claims were like nothing they’d heard with their ears,

the Pharisees plotted and seethed.

But more than someone who claimed to be God,

this Messiah was a man just like me.


He went fishing, casting the emptiest net

on the boat of a man full of pride.


Only asking they trust in the words that He said,

they pulled thousands of fish back inside.


Follow me, Jesus asked to the friends that He made.

He went to weddings and feasts with them all.

He gave a hug and a kiss to the ones that He loved,

even to the one He knew would fall.

He healed the sick and the blind, the leprous and lame.

He made a dead man to walk and to breathe.

But more than hope to the poor in the land,

this healer was a man just like me.

He was accepted by few and rejected by many,

He faced pushback and challenge each day.


Arrested and beaten for crimes not His own,

by the very ones He’d come to save.

He felt sad, He got angry, He cried tears in his prayers.

He asked God if there was any other way.


But He knew that He’d come to drink the cup of God’s wrath

served on the following day.

He watched as a friend whom He’d called to himself

sold Him for a few pieces of change.

Crushed as Judas kissed Him on cheek,

but it was part of the plan He had arranged.

Tomorrow He’d go to His death on the cross,

Giving up His spirit on Calvary.


But more than a sacrifice of blood for my sin,

the Lamb of God was a man just like me.

He anguished in pain as the nails drove into

His palms and through both of his feet.


He knew suffering was the most powerful weapon He had,

but to the world it looked like defeat.


Blood in His eyes mixed with tears from His cries,

a crown of thorns pushed deep in His head.

He committed His spirit to the Father above,

and just like that, our Savior was dead.

The ground shook below, the veil tore in two.

The skies turned black and severe.


They took His body down, and buried Him in

a tomb owned by one of his peers.

He lived a full life of perfection and love.

Our sin nailed Him to a Roman tree.


More than the sacrifice God required for my heart,

this Christ was a man just like me.

He rested in tomb guarded day and night,

a stone rolled in front of the door.

Three days of silence, mourning, and despair

for the disciples, the sick, and the poor.


What they had forgotten was the promise He made

that He’d only be gone for awhile.


Cause on the third day He arose from the grave,

blessing us once more with his smile.

Appearing to many, He showed them His scars

He had a mission for them to complete.


The disciples would take this good news to the world,

of salvation and satan’s defeat.

Many would die for the story they told.

They’d be treated like He was back then.


While redemption has come and the price has been paid,

the world still belongs to its sin.


And now here we are in the modern of days,

and the mission is still underway.


The twelve are long gone, the times sure have changed,

but His message is yet to have strayed.


It’s quite easy for me to put Christ in a box,

or on a pedestal of silver and gold.


When we read of the things that He did through His life,

the messages He preached, and the truth that He told.


Too often we focus on the fact that He

was as much God as God ever was.


Yet we forget that in order to count for our sins,

He was made to be just like US.


He laughed and he cried. He was happy and sad.

He made memories He'd never forget.

He prayed to His father giving thanks and in need,

ending each with a humble “Amen.”


He lived like we live. He died like we die.

Let’s open our eyes, and we’ll see.

That even more than the precious Son of our God,

Jesus was a man just like me.

-----


A tear streamed down my face. Followed by many more behind it.


I quickly fell to my knees.


If you are looking for a God who is so big you will never be able to fully grasp him, my God is your God.


But if you're looking for a God who is small enough to know your struggles, your battles, and the giants you face, my God is your God.


Don't lose sight of the Son in the pursuit of the Father.


For it is through the Son that we are able to get the most accurate picture of who the Father is and how He cares for us.


We relate to the Father through our love for His Son.


Abundantly,


hw


"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him."

John 3:16-17


P.S. If you haven't seen "The Chosen" yet, please watch it. You can find it on the VidAngel app.