We are told some of approaching God, or unity, or "being like unto Him", or something. But unity with God is almost heresy, if we were to think we'd be co-equal; in death, however, we can assume no-God like traits for ourselves, but a perfect union between us and the Father.
For now we are imperfect copies, just as we say our fellow men "through a mirror glass darkly", so too does perhaps God see us, ourselves, in a broken physical nature, but knowing more of the future of man, the spirit to rise and go into perfect communion with God and the Son.
I watched a huge cloud bank come over this morning, a dark huge patch of sky moving across over an otherwise picturesque morning. I thought this was the cloud of unknowing, which is our own minds, physically, a barrier, but also a vessel for communicating with God, knowing or feeling, in faith, this writer, that God's hears the cries of the imperfect.
No comments:
Post a Comment