The Moment I May Never See

I have mixed emotions about this website.

There is some trepidation in leaving so much of myself where the world can see it. These experiences are personal. Putting them into words and making them available carries a cost I have had to consider.

But I believe something here may help another person who is struggling.

I have weighed that cost, and I have chosen to trust God with what comes of it. I am resolved in that.

There is something else, though, that makes me sad.

Someone may find a small nugget among these writings that becomes deeply personal between them and God. They may be alone when they read it. I may never know their name.

And I will miss the moment when the lights come on.

The moment they realize that God indeed loves them.

You.

Me.

Each of us individually. The same faithful love, reaching into lives that are wonderfully different.

I love witnessing when someone begins to understand that the One they have been searching for has known them all along. When they recognize that they have been resisting the relationship for which they were created. When the spark comes as they realize the One who loves them for eternity has been with them all along.

He wants to be even more.

What joy and peace come in that discovery. I know Him, and I know He will make Himself known to them.

When someone is weary from the road, seeing only the little they can perceive of their life, coming to know that truth is like a light of understanding appearing in their eyes.

But it may happen quietly, somewhere I will never see.

Paul wrote:

“For what is our hope or joy or crown of boasting before our Lord Jesus at his coming? Is it not you? For you are our glory and joy.” (1 Thessalonians 2:19–20, ESV)

Those words give expression to something I feel.

The person matters to me, even though we may never meet in this life. Their discovery, their joy, their growing relationship with God—those are what I hope these writings might serve.

I trust God to keep what I cannot witness. I believe there will be joy in His presence that I cannot yet imagine, and I hope that includes discovering how He used these small offerings.

Perhaps then I will get to share the moment I missed.

For now, I can leave the words within reach.

Someone may find them.

And in the quiet, with just them and God, they may discover:

He knows me.

He loves me.

He always has.

This is this morning’s offering.

“I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.” (Romans 12:1, ESV)