“Doubt is not at odds with faith; irony or cruelty does not cancel out beauty or truth. God knows all of me, including the darkest parts. Sometimes I can even see heaven easier for the clouds than for the perfect blue. And he loves me still?”
These words from Surprised by Oxford jumped off the page like an unwelcome intruder. Just days before, in a paced and calibrated read through the book of Revelation I read the words of Jesus through the pen of John with particular and uncharacteristic engagement. Like the words written by Carolyn Weber, I was unintentionally arrested by two very basic words.
Sometimes it takes a large passage, or a complete chapter, or even an entire book of the Bible to surround my thoughts, but not this passage. Not these words. Just two of them… and they aligned in uncanny synchrony with page 255 in the Weber memoir.
Two words that invite scrutiny, and then, a host of other reactions and actions.
The words… “I know…”
Jesus, in a personalized note to seven churches, prefaces each evaluation with those two words. I KNOW.
Then, again, with mortal amplification, Weber writes… “God knows all of me.”
Not in an academic or exploratory way, but in a transcendent and pursuing way. “I know”.
Even as I write these two words… five simple letters, I realize the significance of inflection, of tone, of emphasis. And yet, even with the inferred inflection, the meaning and significance remain untainted.
In pain, and anguish. In grief, and fear… “I know.”
In naïve secrecy. In hidden addiction… “I know.”
In helpless plea. In desperate appeal… “I know.”
In reckless dismissal. In arrogant disregard… “I know.”
In unspoken doubt. In fear of discovery… “I know.”
In worship. In selfless generosity… “I know.”
Nothing concealed. Nothing overlooked.
God knows.
Everything.
Fatigued, we do our best to conceal. Our foolishness is no match for His relentless love.
There is no discovery that disqualifies, no revelation that surprises.
“I know.”
He does.
Knowledge that liberates when confessed honestly. Our acknowledging matching His knowing. Knowledge that humbles. Agreement that unlocks the chains of shame.
He is no star struck lover. His love is informed. His compassion is anchored in a full awareness.
His knowledge neither accommodates nor obliterates.
While we were still sinners. While we are still sinners, Christ died for us.
He knew, and yet He died.
He knew, and yet He left the other 99.
He knew, and yet He loved.
God knows all of me, including the darkest parts.
Grace upon grace. Truth without compromise.
“I know…”
“And he loves me still?”
Indeed, He loves me still!
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