I nominate this chapter of Scripture as one of the very best.  The child in me quickly feels my imagination take off as image after immense image depict the matchless greatness of God.

He gets it, that we don’t!  We shrink Him down and even dare to manage Him.  And like a volcano, He erupts, making it abundantly clear that the Divine is not to be managed.  It is to be pursued and sought and revered.

These words from Isaiah 40 do that for me almost immediately, every time I sit quietly and slowly with them:

¹² Who else has held the oceans in his hand?
Who has measured off the heavens with his fingers?
Who else knows the weight of the earth
or has weighed the mountains and hills on a scale?
¹³ Who is able to advise the Spirit of the Lord?
Who knows enough to give him advice or teach him?
¹⁴ Has the Lord ever needed anyone’s advice?
Does he need instruction about what is good?
Did someone teach him what is right
or show him the path of justice?

¹⁵ No, for all the nations of the world
are but a drop in the bucket.
They are nothing more
than dust on the scales.
He picks up the whole earth
as though it were a grain of sand.
¹⁶ All the wood in Lebanon’s forests
and all Lebanon’s animals would not be enough
to make a burnt offering worthy of our God.
¹⁷ The nations of the world are worth nothing to him.
In his eyes they count for less than nothing—
mere emptiness and froth.

This morning’s reading includes this odd image:

¹⁴ But thank God! He has made us his captives and continues to lead us along in Christ’s triumphal procession. Now he uses us to spread the knowledge of Christ everywhere, like a sweet perfume.

A king marches through the streets.  He’s been victorious, and behind him in tow are all those he has captured in battle.  This parade displays his victory and his rule in this place.  Watch any movie about ancient kingdoms or empires, and you can likely see this scene.

But these captives don’t appear to walk with hung heads.  They cling to no crushed freedoms; they have not suffered loss in the defeat.  To be certain, things have been taken from them.  Plans have been changed and life has been disrupted.  But they know they’ve never been part of something so sweet as this victory walk.  Their loss has become their victory, and their new king is the finest master they’ve ever known–even if they needed to be “persuaded” of that by his takeover of their lives.

And now they wish to see their lives carry that message, as a sweet aroma floats through the air.

So today, I hope you smell!

And I hope others smell your scent.

No doubt our lives always smell of something–let today be a day when the fragrance draws “sniffers” to notice the king at the front of our procession.

Our reading schedule began in 2 Corinthians this morning.  A few thoughts from chapter one:

³ All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. ⁴ He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.

I’ve always bought the idea that what we’re given is intended to flow through us.  In fact, it drives me to utter frequent and patterned prayers: Teach me, that I might teach.  Love me, that I might love.  Lead me, that I might lead.

You get the idea.  And you can add this one today: “Comfort me, that I might comfort.”

That one’s a touch tougher because it catches us in a weak moment.  When I’m squirming or hurting or broken, I’m terrible at thinking of others.  In such times, we fall back to animal instincts with a perspective that shrinks itself to an area of one square-foot.  That’s just enough room for me, and nowhere for you.

But “comfort me, that I might comfort” will attack that.  Not only attack it, it will alter it.  Because God won’t be contained in any square-foot spaces.  His comforting entrance into my hurts will naturally expand the space of my life.  In my smallness, I may not even notice the change, though I’ll certainly feel it easier to breathe.  And as my life “enlarges” by His comforting touch, I may be shocked to see that my gaze now beholds more than merely me.

I see others.  I see stories.  I see that Amanda Marshall sang truth about six billion stories that can break a heart.

And my prayer will be answered, for in that moment, I will recognize that the Comforter’s presence in my hurt has equipped and readied me to act divinely in the hurt of another, to be a real piece of the salvation story this day.

From Isaiah 26, a few parts of my morning reading jumped out:

³ You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you!  ⁴ Trust in the Lord always, for the Lord God is the eternal Rock.

Peace awaits us as we center our thoughts and pursuits upon God.  Why do I complicate matters by seeking so much else?  Trust God, and seek Him.  Peace awaits those who do, regardless of the specific circumstances and situations that life presents.

⁷ But for those who are righteous, the way is not steep and rough.  You are a God who does what is right, and you smooth out the path ahead of them.

And as we seek Him, God works.  He guides our feet and prepares the path ahead of us.  We may have no idea where the road is leading.  And that is all right.  We travel with one we trust and adore, so bring on the road!  Wherever it goes is good by us!

¹⁶ Lord, in distress we searched for you.  We prayed beneath the burden of your discipline.

“The burden of your discipline”–that phrase wedged itself into me this morning.  The discipline of God in our lives IS a burden.  But it is one worth bearing.  And we would be wise to feel its full weight, to allow it to force us into shifting our postures and altering our positions; for this is how our paths are prepared and our feet are led and our peace is found.