You could say that Quito’s public transportation system is crazy, cheap, crowded, and so many other things, and I wouldn’t deny it (although I might argue that the Santiago metro during rush hour is still more crowded than Quito’s Trolebus). Team HA and I rode two buses and a camioneta to and from ministry every day, taking an hour and a half both ways on some days. We always took shelter in the back row of seats if we could get them and plugged ourselves into podcasts or eBooks. By the end of the month, we were so used to the commute that some of us began to wish it was longer! I listened to so many good podcasts during that time. But more than that, God used that time to nudge me with little reminders of His love. Those reminders weren’t anything big, and I don’t know how to describe them in words, but I decided that I wasn’t going to deny His presence and His voice anymore. I was going to choose to believe that He did love me in a personal way and that He did have a special way of relating to me. It’s been a lesson I’ve been learning since Training Camp six months ago, but I’m not sure if I’ll fully understand.
One morning while journaling and remembering what God had been reminding me of on the buses, I wrote out this story as inspired by a few sermons I listened to on 1 John and the passages I was reading in the Bible. It starts with a verse in Psalm 97: “The mountains melt like wax at the presence of the LORD.”
This is the SAME PRESENCE that I can experience, that I can enter freely. This presence that should kill me somehow is made available to me because of what Jesus has done, my advocate and Great High Priest. He walks me into His Father’s throne room, boldly and without shame, because He is firm, so firm in His confidence in His Father’s love for Him – and for me. As He offers His hand to me and reassures me with His searching gaze, I shyly reach out and cling to Him as He wraps my hand in comfort and the solid grip of His love for me. He pushes open the door and guides me forward – I’m so nervous, so scared. This is the LORD. The Great I AM. YHWH. The mountains melt like wax in his presence! And who am I – a human. So painfully mortal. Soft, prone to injury, easily destroyed. My fragile cells can’t compare to the massive structures of solid rock that spear through the clouds and are seemingly unshakeable. How will I not be utterly obliterated in this divine presence? But I edge forward slowly, urged on by Jesus and His excitement for me to meet His – our – perfect, holy Father. He squeezes my hand even tighter to keep driving out my fear that causes me to hide behind Him in an attempt to shield myself from what I foresee to be my inevitabledestruction, and I look down at our interlocked fingers. There, on His hand, is that scar. That place where He let humanity – me – drive a nail through His flesh into the wood where He would hang until He could no longer breathe. He’s got four more, permanent marks of His unshakeable, perfect love for me. Three days after He died, He came back to life! He died the death I should have died, leaving His Father’s presence so that I could know His – our – Father. And with His return to life, He erased my sin, putting it on that cross and nailing it there to die. He showed me who He is, loving me without ceasing, even though I pushed Him away and tried to escape time and time again. I am now convinced that He loves me just because, not because of anything I have done or can do or can provide for Him, and I think I love Him now. I do love Him now, and I believe in Him. So now I walk behind Him into His Father’s throne room. Jesus guides me to stand beside Him, and He presents me to His Father, pointing out my name and my life in His book. And, wonder of wonders, I am not immediately killed. Jesus’s Father, the LORD, the Great I AM, YHWH, extends His scepter to me, and in His loving, powerful voice, gently says, “Welcome, my beloved daughter. Welcome home.”
— 1 John 2:1-2, 1 John 4:18-19, 1 Corinthians 15
