Recently I have been thinking about what it will be like when I am finally standing before the Lord in the flesh. One of my favorite songs ponders how we will react: “I Can Only Imagine”.
Many people speculate about this. Some talk about the questions they’ll ask him (whether out of curiosity or the belief they are owed an answer). Others believe the joy they feel will overwhelm them, and they’ll jump on him and cling to him. Some believe they’ll find themselves dumbstruck, standing before him and not able to say a word.
I have felt each of these at one time or another. But the more I consider this as a real possibility in the near future, the more I realize there is only one answer to “how will I react to Jesus?”: I’ll hit the dirt.
Peter experienced the same thing. When it sunk in to Peter that Jesus was more than a rabbi–or even their idea of the Messiah–he did what I believe I–and everyone else–will do. He fell on the ground and begged Jesus to turn away from him because he was unworthy (Luke 5:8). And he was right.
I have thought about it a lot, and I see it clearly. I stand before the King of the Universe, and I am immediately aware of who I am before him–unworthy, a sinner, an imperfect and bent version of the image of God I was created to be. And I know I will hit the dirt. Not because I don’t believe in the loving Jesus. Not because I fear his anger. Not even because I wonder if he could actually love and forgive someone like me. But because he is God who became flesh–the creator of all things, the author of authority and the final judge. Perfection–even Existence itself. And I will be so overwhelmed, so awed, so amazed, so obliterated with his majesty there will be only one rightful place for me. Face down at his feet.
Don’t misunderstand me. I know and trust our King. I know I will bask in his love and forgiveness and glory. But that will be because of his action. I can see him reaching down and picking me up. Holding me–because I would not be able to stand in front of him otherwise. I can hear his voice telling me I have finally found a home, and that all along it is he to whom I have belonged. I can almost feel the freedom and refreshment of my spirit as he assures me of my forgiveness. And I dream of him adding one more thing: “Randy, you did good”. I can’t wait to stare into his face, knowing I am seeing something I have never seen before–total and utter innocence, power, love and righteousness–joined together in limitless quantity.
But first, I will hit the dirt. Not to show him I understand, or express my worship, but because that’s where I belong.
I can only imagine–and the more I do, the more overwhelmed I am at the very anticipation of that moment. Jesus is King! Today, I do not get to see him with my eyes, or stand in his physical presence. But today, he has given me life, and I live it joyfully–my greatest hope that I will bring a smile to the face of my King.