I read Psalm 50 today, and I still feel a kind of trembling in my thoughts. It is not fear in the ordinary sense, but that strange feeling when you suddenly realize how small you are and how vast God is. The psalm does not begin with comfort. It begins with fire, with storm, with a God who summons the whole earth as if creation itself were a courtroom and He were the Judge before whom everything must stand.
There is something almost terrifying about it. God does not appear as a gentle idea or a soft spiritual presence. He arrives in majesty, in consuming fire, in a voice that shakes heaven and earth. And for a moment, I felt as if the psalm was building toward some unbearable demand, as though such a God would ask for endless sacrifices, perfect obedience, and a life too heavy for human shoulders.
But then the tone shifts in a way that feels almost shocking. God says He does not need their sacrifices. He is not hungry. The cattle on a thousand hills are already His. Every bird, every creature, every part of the world belongs to Him. It is as if He is saying, “Do you really think you are sustaining Me?”
And then, after all that majesty, after all that divine independence, comes the most unexpected line: call on me in the day of trouble.
That is what struck me the most. The God who stands above storms and summons the earth like a witness does not ask me to impress Him. He does not demand that I maintain His glory. He simply tells me to call on Him. It feels almost too simple. Almost too kind.
There is something deeply humbling about that. I spend so much time worrying about whether I am good enough, disciplined enough, faithful enough. And here is God, in all His majesty, saying that what He really wants is a heart that calls on Him.
He really is worthy to be God. Not because He demands everything, but because He owns everything and still chooses to invite the weak, the troubled, and the needy to come to Him.
No comments:
Post a Comment