God thinks you're the Grand Canyon
I’m from Georgia and have always wanted to visit the Grand Canyon.
It’s on my list but until I reach it I can only really visualize what we call in Georgia as “Baby Grand Canyon”. Formally known as Providence Canyon, the landmark sits about an hour and a half below the city where its marbled walls caused by erosion reveal layers of sedimentary rock similar to the “real” thing. And similar to the Grand Canyon, people can stand on the edge in awe of what is before them. I love that feeling. Toes on the edge, forcing your peripherals to reach out as far as possible in an effort to create a panorama in your mind. It’s the moment you know you could never take a photo and show a friend later because they simply wouldn’t understand. This was made only for those who encounter it in real life, so you have to be content with the reality of having it only with yourself, or with those who came along for the ride. It’s a stunning site to stand before the canyon, beckoning the most adventurous to stay a while and explore. But at night it’s still the wild. The coyotes come out, the temperature drops far below how it felt mid-afternoon when you sat with your knee propped up soaking in the sun and the view. The critters that hid in the cracks of the walls are now free to move around in the chill of the night, and what were stunning canyons before are still giant cracks in what used to be.
This is you.
The thing about God is he can see anything in its entirety without losing the ability to know the complexity of it. As humans, we can only see the grain of wood up close. We can appreciate someone’s beauty by sitting beside them, but we can only understand their biology through a microscope-we cannot do both simultaneously. Just like campers that sit propped up on the side of the canyon, they cannot appreciate the layers of sand and stone from that high up; equally so, they cannot give their breath to the wind in awe of the view from the bottom of the canyon. But God can. His omnipresence lends itself to his omniscience, and someone without these qualities can never fully see what someone who’s created them can.
But He sees you, and appreciates you, every single day. He sees completely your full being, while simultaneously comprehending every second that has made you so. He knows what happens when the sun goes down on you. He knows your chill as much as your glisten. He knows how clean the streams flowing below really are. He is not perplexed by your responses because he understands the unique evolution that has been notching at your heart since the day you were born, simply making you you.
This understanding is what we want from people, but they can’t do both at once. And if we are not seated in the hope of a supernatural love, natural love will leave us broken and angry every time. What God sewed into you is too much for man alone. Humanity bears more than it can sustain, it requires a caretaker greater than itself…
The thing about canyons is they never punish the explorers that only stay for a day or so, they simply allow the long-comers to experience more beauty than the others. This is how we must learn to be.
