Dream Word – CONSIDER
Psalms 8:3-4 When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have ordained, what is man that You are mindful of him, and the son of man that You visit him? NKJV.
Ever and always, the Scriptures present the angelic creation as occupying higher realms, as being higher beings possessing higher powers, indeed, in every respect their capacities, in each and every way, are so much higher than we mere humans that it makes them more awesome and richer than humanity could ever possibly attain to. Even so, C.S. Lewis, whilst acknowledging our currently confused and glass darkened senses, gives thanks for such present human befuddlement, such 'witchery of the senses,' as he calls it, and then most majestically lays out for us a golden thought that tonight we mere humans might consider. Will you listen:
Far richer they! I know senses’ witchery
Guards us, like air, from heavens too big to see;
Imminent death to man that barb’d sublimity
And dazzling edge of beauty unsheathed would be.
Yet here. Within this tiny, charm’d interior,
This parlour of the brain, their Maker shares
With living men some secrets in a privacy
Forever ours, not theirs.
(from the Poem – ‘On Being Human’ - C.S. Lewis )
Now friends, though we have cruelly rejected truth and thus have forgotten who we were intended to be, the angels know of both our design and our direction. Yes, they are well aware of both our fall and of our coming exaltation. I might conjecture then that this 'chatter of the ages,' a long time ago now, eventually spread to one-third of them like cancerous jealousy and caused them to fall and plummet, down to the depths beneath, in all-consuming and envious desperation? Even so, what we the redeemed of Christ are now, and what we shall soon, so very soon become, are for the good angels of the good God, things which they ever and always, both desire and delight to look into, for they understand, that the secrets of redemption which have been planted by the Holy Spirit, like loving seeds in the dead ground of a poor man’s soul, shall at the adoption, even the redemption of our bodies, lead to another Genesis, the like of which is only told of in the longing cries of a groaning creation, presently, all gone wrong.
I wonder if we each have a personal and private inner sanctuary, even in our hearts which is he very dwelling place of the Most-High, a secret place of private audiences with our Father, where
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