Week of November 26
Eyewitnesses of His Majesty
by Max Lucado
Christianity, in its purest form, is nothing more than seeing Jesus.
Christian service, in its purest form, is nothing more than imitating Him who we see.
To see His Majesty and to imitate Him,that is the sum of Christianity.
FOR FIFTY-ONE YEARS BOB EDENS WAS BLIND. He couldn't see a thing. His world was a black hall of sounds and smells. He felt his way through five decades of darkness.
And then, he could see.
A skilled surgeon performed a complicated operation and, for the first time, Bob Edens had sight. He found it overwhelming. "I never would have dreamed that yellow is so ... yellow," he exclaimed. "I don't have the words. I am amazed by yellow. But red is my favorite color. I just can't believe red.
"I can see the shape of the moon—and I like nothing better than seeing a jet plane flying across the sky leaving a vapor trail. And of course, sunrises and sunsets. And at night I look at the stars in the sky and the flashing light. You could never know how wonderful everything is."
He's right. Those of us who have lived a lifetime with vision can't know how wonderful it must be to be given sight.
But Bob Edens isn't the only one who has spent a lifetime near something without seeing it. Few are the people who don't suffer from some form of blindness. Amazing, isn't it? We can live next to something for a lifetime, but unless we take time to focus on it, it doesn't become a part of our life. Unless we somehow have our blindness lifted, our world is but a black cave.
Think about it. Just because one has witnessed a thousand rainbows doesn't mean he's seen the grandeur of one. One can live near a garden and fail to focus on the splendor of the flower. A man can spend a lifetime with a woman and never pause to look into her soul.
And a person can be all that goodness calls him to be and still never see the Author of life.
Being honest or moral or even religious doesn't necessarily mean we will see him. No. We may see what others see in him. Or we may hear what some say he said. But until we see him for ourselves, until our own sight is given, we may think we see him, having in reality seen only a hazy form in the gray semidarkness.
Have you seen him?
Have you caught a glimpse of His Majesty? A word is placed in a receptive crevice of your heart that causes you, ever so briefly, to see his face. You hear a verse read in a tone you'd never heard, or explained in a way you'd never thought and one more piece of the puzzle falls into place. Someone touches your painful spirit as only one sent from him could do and there he is.
Jesus.
The man. The bronzed Galilean who spoke with such thunderous authority and loved with such childlike humility.
The God. The one who claimed to be older than time and greater than death.
Gone is the pomp of religion; dissipated is the fog of theology. Momentarily lifted is the opaque curtain of controversy and opinion. Erased are our own blinding errors and egotism. And there he stands.
Jesus.
Have you seen him?
Those who first did were never the same.
"My Lord and my God!" cried Thomas.
"I have seen the Lord," exclaimed Mary Magdalene.
"We have seen his glory," declared John.
"Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked?" rejoiced the two Emmaus-bound disciples.
But Peter said it best. "We were eyewitnesses of his majesty."
His Majesty. The emperor of Judah. The soaring eagle of eternity. The noble admiral of the Kingdom. All the splendor of heaven revealed in a human body. For a period ever so brief, the doors to the throne room were open and God came near. His Majesty was seen. Heaven touched the earth and, as a result, earth can know heaven. In astounding tandem a human body housed divinity. Holiness and earthliness intertwined.
Has it been a while since you have seen him? If your prayers seem stale, it probably has. If your faith seems to be trembling, perhaps your vision of him has blurred. If you can't find power to face your problems, perhaps it is time to face him.
One warning. Something happens to a person who has witnessed His Majesty. He becomes addicted. One glimpse of the King and you are consumed by a desire to see more of him and say more about him. Pew-warming is no longer an option. Junk religion will no longer suffice. Sensation-seeking is needless. Once you have seen his face you will forever long to see it again.
My prayer for this book—without apologies—is that the Divine Surgeon will use it as a delicate surgical tool to restore sight. That blurriness will be focused and darkness dispersed. And, that we will whisper the secret of the universe, "We were eyewitnesses of his majesty."
From the newly released
God Came Near: Deluxe Edition
Copyright (Thomas Nelson, 1987) Max Lucado
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