Four years ago, I was in the mountains with friends for a weekend retreat. I was in a rough time of my life. I had taken on the difficult journey of walking through some serious heart muck. God and I were walking through wounds and scars I never realized my poor heart had suffered through. And in the insecurity of it all, I had asked God for the impossible. I wanted a picture of Him. I wanted picture of Him as a promise that He could make the impossible possible. I suppose somewhere in my heart I figured if He could make the invisible visible, then maybe He could actually heal all this heart muck, which for me was just more of the impossible becoming possible. And so there I was. Somewhere out in the mountains, in one of the most beautiful places I could have imagined, let alone gone to. I believe it was the last morning we were there. We were to have breakfast and then head out. It had been a fantastic weekend. One of those weekends full of so much needed quiet that your heart was bursting from all the heart sounds. All the noise you didn’t even know you had inside of you. I heard God in such a refreshing way that weekend. I felt alive with purpose, love, and renewed faith. And as there were already too many cooks in the kitchen working on breakfast, I went out to the deck on that early Sunday morning to enjoy the view. It was a stunning view. The fog still hung thick over the mountains as a perfect example of why those Smoky Mountains were considered so smoky. And then the sun. Liquid yellow, peeking out over the dip of the mountains. It highlighted every detail of every leaf, every cloud, every beauty. I couldn’t help myself. It was just too beautiful. I looked at the handful of friends sitting on that deck with me and told them what they were missing. In my mind they were fools not to see it.
“Do you guys see this morning?” I asked them. A few looked up and nodded as if to say, “Yeah, yeah, its pretty.” But I wasn’t in a mood to accept a nod of the head. So I went on. “People, look at this. Do you guys see this? This is not just a beautiful view. This is Jesus!” I got some attention to this. Probably not the good kind. In fact, a few even spoke up.
“Huh? That’s Jesus?” I don’t think they were amused. Luckily, I was too oblivious to their sarcasm. I was swooning.
“Yes. This is Jesus. We are looking at the face of God right now. Isn’t He beautiful?” And then I sunk my elbow into the railing and my chin followed, sinking into my hand. I was my beloveds and my beloveds was mine. And in that moment all I could do was stare into His beauty. And I looked and looked into the glory of the One I love most. That is, until I was interrupted by my friend John. He walked up to me and said, “Look, I got a picture of you and Jesus.”
“What did you just say?” I couldn’t even swallow. I’m pretty sure John had just said the impossible. And then he said the impossible again.
“I just got a picture of you and Jesus. Isn’t that what you were telling us?”
I nodded. I smiled. He had done it. My beloved had done it. I didn’t even realize what I was saying, and yet in my ignorance, He had answered the impossible with the possible. He had given me a picture of Him. And it wasn’t just a picture of Him. It was a picture of Him with me. I couldn’t believe it. Poor John didn’t even know what he had done. I’m pretty sure I hugged him. It may have come closer to an attack . I was pretty excited.
A week later I ended up in the hospital. But it wasn’t a hard trip. Because a day in my friends came in with a present from John. It was my picture, framed. A picture of me and my beloved. A picture of the impossible being made possible.
“Anybody can be like everybody else. Only those who are exceptional choose to believe the possible over the probable.” -Beth Moore.
I read that today, and immediately I remembered this story. We are children of the possible. We live in a world of the probable. And it is easy to get confused, and believe we are children of the probably. But its true, we were called to be exceptional. We were never created to be like everybody else. We were called out, chosen, purposed for more.
Four years ago, I asked for something that was probably not going to happen. But it did. Because with God, all things are possible.
With God, my friend Emily can expect a misbehaving classroom to change their hearts.
With God, bodies can heal.
With God, families can be reunited.
With God, infertility can be a word of the past as women become mommies.
With God, loneliness can be replaced with community.
With God, peace can attend my soul.
With God, all things are possible. Even a picture of an unseen God.