He was supreme in the beginning and—leading the resurrection parade—he is supreme in the end. From beginning to end he’s there, towering far above everything, everyone. So spacious is he, so roomy, that everything of God finds its proper place in him without crowding. Not only that, but all the broken and dislocated pieces of the universe—people and things, animals and atoms—get properly fixed and fit together in vibrant harmonies, all because of his death, his blood that poured down from the cross.
GUYS. It’s been a week. One that I want to end, but it simultaneously feels like it’s lasted for an eternity. Know what I mean?
My kids gave me a run for my money this week. From an entire bottle of nail polish artfully splattering on my carpet and walls, to the puking fiasco, which involved me being vomited on two times, YOU GUYS. Ready for the weekend.
I’ve been working through some verses in Colossians for a teaching I’m giving in a few weeks, and I swear, almost every time I return to the passage, something new is waiting for me there. It’s not as though I haven’t read it many times already.
I read in Psalm 23 this morning, and that felt good and fresh and full. And then I flipped to Colossians and felt like my knees needed to get on the ground right now, because they were words that hit me in the gut.
So spacious is he, so roomy, that everything of God finds its proper place in him without crowding.
I’m telling you about my seemingly crap-filled week because it’s in these days of chaos, bodily fluids, and nail polish stains that I feel ill-equipped. Trying to be a mom and a writer and a woman all at the same time? What? Who the heck has time for that? This week has felt like a giant boulder of frustration, and I just want to get it off my chest. It’s times like these where I feel like I’m not in Him.
But, back to Colossians. Back to this verse.
So spacious is HE, so ROOMY, that everything of God finds its proper place in him without crowding. (All that emphasis, mine.)
I can go weeks without feeling weighted down. I feel light and capable, because that’s what His burden is. But there are weeks like these ones where I’m sure that I’m doing everything wrong, that I don’t belong, and that God is certainly going to chastise me soon.
But you know what? I’m of God. He called me mine when I believed in the power of His blood. And everything of God finds its proper place in Him. Even this place where everything is crap in the fan, this is my proper place right now. And even if the weight of responsibility and frustration seems overwhelming, squeezing me out, there’s enough space in Him for me. We’re not even crowded when we’re here. There’s so much room. So much space. So much good.
I got properly fixed and fit together when He died. Imagine that. Two thousand years ago, He did it, before my cells were even formed. He already put me back together.
I raise my glass to you, ladies. Moms. Working moms. Working women. Women who got things to do, women who have the ability to do it all, women who have time to kill.
It’s been a week, right? Good news: there’s enough room for us in Him. For all of us. No crowding, no bumping shoulders trying to do anything better. We all have a proper place in Him, because we are of Him.
Okay? Okay. Now go live like it: fixed and fit together.