It has been a day of deep thought. The kind that stirs the soul ... almost in a literal way, scraping the sides, bringing down what was stuck up ... making something new. A new thought. A new way of thinking. My mind and heart are overwhelmed. I felt God near and I heard His sweet voice. He reminded me of things I already knew, things I'd forgotten, and things I was just learning, and fit them all together to form something new.
It was like that moment in a crime show when they're about to solve the mystery. A new piece of information comes up, seemingly unimportant, but they look into it. They dig deeper. They remember another obscure fact from earlier on in the case. They weave a story that makes sense, and then they fight to find and prove the truth.
Excuse how my brain works, but I am going to invite you into the full reality of my thought process. It's scary. You've been warned.

A friend told me this past week that our God is the only One who can say "always" and "never." His promises are the only ones that hold eternal weight. He alone will never fail. {As a side note, you can imagine that this thinking has greatly curbed my addiction to using the word "always."} We can't depend on anyone else.
I was praying, and I named Him "the God of always and never." I began to run through the promises He gave me that used those words. "I am with you always." (Matthew 28:20) "I will never leave you nor forsake you." (Deuteronomy 31:6) I focused in on these two and was reminded of His omnipresence. I think of His infinite nature. He is not constrained to earth or our conceptions of time. He holds them both in His hands. I've always believed that in His power, His unlimited knowledge and presence, He is as much in yesterday as He is in today.
That line of thinking leads me to the cross. Where else could I go?
How did I not come to this before? He is ever-present. He has won the victory in my life, but I picture Him on the cross, and thinking His all-knowing thoughts, looking into the future. I picture Him today, looking into the past.
"... but God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Romans 5:8)
On the cross, He saw the victory.
On the cross, He saw my sin and utter depravity.
In my disobedient rebellion, He died for me.
He looked at me as I caved in to temptation, and He poured out blood and water on my behalf.
He wept in Gethsemane, and He knew what a disaster I would make of my life on my own, and He prayed for me. He succumbed to His Father's perfect will.
He hung on the cross and felt the spit of the people He was dying on behalf of. He thought of us. He thought of me. He knew full well my weakness would be evident and my flesh would fail, yet He cried, "It is finished." (John 19:30)
It is finished. Not it will be finished. His name is I AM, not I WILL BE, I MAY BE, or I ONCE WAS. Present-tense words from an omnipresent God ... the God of always and never.
His blood and love intermingled, pouring out for me, even as I broke His heart in my sin and rebellion.
Never have I come across a truth so significant, so relevant. I can do naught but live in this reality. Entirely and wholly, in every minute.

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