A Treasure

I have a terrifying treasure.

This terrifying treasure has me gripped. It has me in peace. It has me clinging to the hope that one day soon I will see it in full what I now see partially.. dimly light.

The shadows of the gospel cover me daily. I wake up to the sunlight and see the hope of a new day. I see it in a baby, specifically Madelyn. I see it in the smallest caterpillar on the sidewalk. It is the gospel of grace. The grace that pours from the Father who loves me. The Father who sacrificed His Son for me. And that is terrifying.

This treasure, though terrifying it might be, constantly draws me in. It beckons me like a lighthouse on the shore. This treasure of the gospel of Jesus Christ pulls my heart to turn toward Him. Though in it's terrifying-ness, I want to do nothing but run.

Run? Surely, I am mistaken. Run. I want to run because my flesh fails. It says this can't be true. There can't be this hope promised by a God who loves us. This is terrifying. But the treasure is greater. He is greater. He reminds me of His grace - His comfort - His love. I see it in a sunrise. I see it in a baby's face. I see it in the smallest caterpillar.

No more running. But holding on tightly to this terrifying treasure. I believe in the Living God, though my flesh may fail. I believe in the Living God at the core of who I am.  And the treasure becomes less terrifying because He shows me who He is. He becomes bigger, and my world becomes smaller. And I look around at the wickedness of the world - the hopelessness of the passerby- and I see the treasure. The hope of Jesus Christ.

And the treasure isn't so terrifying. It's a treasure of delight.