By Drew Williams
As a small boy, I sang in a church choir in what was considered, especially by all of us who went there, to be the largest and grandest church in town. I wore a little black cassock and a cotta (with the words “hands off” inscribed in the inside by a previous owner) with a ruff that was starched so as to keep my chin up. These were the days of rank political incorrectness, and there were absolutely no girls allowed in Tavistock Church Choir. So I, and all the rest of the small boys, sang our hearts out on cue, almost, and for the rest of the time passed the tedium of the service by either attempting to sleep with our eyes open or fighting each other quietly beneath the pew-line. Occasionally, something exciting would happen, a Christmas floral tribute would catch fire, or one of us would pass out or have a nosebleed, but for the most part it was long, long periods of boredom interspersed with some boisterous singing.
If you had asked me at the time if God was real, I think I would have said something like, “I think so.” But, to be honest, He seemed so very far away, so enormously distant. He was very difficult to make out. We were always encouraged to sing to the back of the church, to project our voices to the tops of the pillars and fill the rafters of the vaulted ceiling, in order for God to hear us. This left me with the impression that He truly was miles away.
This was a pity, because this was a desperately unhappy time at home and I really needed Him to be a lot closer. One Sunday, in the tedium of the service, I struck God a deal. I said, “God, if you are there, and if you love me and care about me and my brother and everything that is going on at home, here is how you can prove it . . . when I take Communion, will you give me an especially large mouthful of Communion wine?”
Depending on whom you ask, when the Communion cup came, I allegedly snatched and nearly drained it; and then, because we did not use unfermented grape juice, but the fortified fermented variety, I went back to my pew and fell asleep. I got in so much trouble! My conclusion was that, if God existed at all, He kept Himself at a considerable distance. And, if He had spied my Communion cup fiasco, He, too, was no doubt deeply disappointed with me.
I suspect that maybe there is something in all of our histories that could lead us to draw the same conclusion — that God is unknowable, impersonal, uncaring, cold, distant, and deeply disappointed in us. And yet, the reality that the apostle John attests to is that God is more intimate and loving than we could possibly imagine.
In the biblical account of the Last Supper, John’s posture —he is literally leaning against Jesus’ chest — is so close, so personal, so intimate, that he could have heard Jesus’ heartbeat. And, what his testimony? After resting so close to the heart of Jesus, what is John’s primary revelation and message? John’s conclusion is so profound and yet so simple: “God is love.” (1 John 4:16)
Perhaps we know this in theory. Perhaps we hope that this is true. But, life’s experiences and losses, what we were taught growing up, the religion we inherited, all this leaves us, at times, struggling with a very a very different set of beliefs. And, these beliefs raise some very real objections to the idea of God’s love for us. And yet, by His Spirit, Jesus is even closer now than John’s physical experience of reclining upon His breast. This is why John tells us, “This is how we know that we live in Him and He in us: He has given us of His Spirit. And we have seen and testify that the Father has sent his Son to be the Savior of the world.” (1 John 4:13-14)
I look back at those sad times in my childhood, and although I could not see Him then, by His Spirit I can now see exactly where He was standing. I can see how, on so many occasions, He stepped in and saved me from others, and myself. I can see the faces of the people that manifested His love, and I remember the kindness of their words and faces.
If the apostle John were asked, “What is your primary identity, your most coherent sense of yourself?” he would not reply, “I am a disciple, an apostle, an evangelist,” but instead, “I am the one Jesus loves.” Paul Young takes up the same boldness in The Shack. In this allegory of God’s love, God says, “I have no favorites. I am just especially fond of him.” The protagonist Mack asks, “Are there any you are not especially fond of?” “Nope,” replies God, “I haven’t been able to find any. Guess that’s jes’ the way I is.”
How can God be intimate with all of us? Because He especially loves you! Because you really are the one that Jesus loves. Not at a distance — but deep within you, by His Spirit, in the person of Jesus.
Drew Williams is Senior Pastor of Trinity Church. Visit trinitychurch.life
