Some Thoughts on Ache

Ever arrive somewhere so fully, so joyfully and it's so sublime it makes your chest hurt? Why is that? What is that ache?

It's longing.

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When I sit, with my orange socks on, an arms length from the highest point in Europe, it thrills and pains me equally because I know, after a time, I have to leave. Down there my mind isn't this still, I don't feel this rapture, I'm not so overwhelmed by the extreme majesty of God's vast and creative expression.

But up here I am, and I can barely breathe. I'm overwhelmed. Desperate. Taken.

I yearn to feel like this all the time, but I know that's not how it works. Even now, in this wildly magnificent place, I only see imperfectly, darkly, shrouded in the mist of my limited understanding. This high and holy place reminds me of the goodness that awaits me, AND that I'm not there yet.

It's not mountains I long for, they're just the advertisement for who I really want.


For by Him all things were created that are in heaven and that are on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or powers. All things were created through Him and for Him. And He is before all things, and in Him all things consist. Col 1:16-17

In Him all things consist. Even me. You too