Feeling the nudge, I flip the pages, eyes landing at last in Colossians. And read this: “To (the saints) God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.”
It’s Paul, used-to-be Saul, the killer of Christians, who met Christ on the road to Damascus one fateful day. He’s telling it bold, saying it plain.
I read on. “For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form, and you have been given fullness in Christ, you are complete in Him, who is the head over every power and authority.”
I stop, letting the ancient words sink in. This…oh, this is big. In Christ, all the fullness of the Godhead; of the Deity; of Father, Son and Holy Spirit, all of God is in Him. Is in Jesus. And Jesus…
My mind is whirling. My spirit, it’s quickening as the truth begins to dawn like the sun outside the window. For Christ with all that Godhead fullness dwells in me. And I, I am complete.
What great riches–what unspeakable treasure–has been poured into these earthen vessels. Into pots of clay! To know that we carry about in our body the very Christ in all His fullness. Oh, if all His children walked in that; lived as though it were really true, the world would be set on fire. Would be turned right upside down. If only we so lived. In Christ, and He in us.
I remember the message that was posted on Tuesday last. “His password, it was ‘inChrist.’” Lump rising in throat, heart squeezing tight in chest, I’m thinking of that boy. Thinking of his mama.
His mama, my sister in Christ, and other-mother-of-four-sons. It was she who’d discovered it; had found the password he’d chosen for his laptop, “inChrist.” He, her baby, the number four and the last. He in Christ, and Christ in him.
For weeks, we’d followed, praying, hoping, rejoicing, grieving with them on the journey. Her flesh and blood, piece of her heart all shaped like a boy, hooked to tubes and wires in a bed far away. Her baby, the number four.
What treasure is packed into earthen vessels when even in dying, there’s a supernatural song of praise. A message of joy. A strong, relentless faith that will not quit. That names His name, that stands in Christ and Christ alone.
In two days, Benji’s mama and daddy will lay his earthly frame to rest, big brothers all attending. But it won’t be goodbye; not for them. It will be a “see you later” and “we’re coming right behind.” For Benji knew the key, the password that never fails. “In Christ.”
To Cindy: Dear sister, may I tell you that as a fellow faith walker, I’m so proud of you? In the darkest night, in the valley of death’s shadow, you’ve been stubborn in believing, persistent in praise, and you’ve shown the world how it looks. No mother could have loved Benji better or fought more bravely on his behalf. May Christ Himself continue to fill your earthen vessel with comfort and consolation.
To Allen: The photo of you leaning over your son’s bed moves me deeply. There, I saw the essence of a Heavenly Father’s love for us, His kids, in the tender way you cared for your own. Grant and I, we’re praying for you.
To Aaron, Tyler and Cory: Your big-brother love for Kid Brother was beautiful to see. Thinking of my own four sons, it blesses me in ways I cannot tell. Your lives have, too, been a witness and a blessing to those around you. With you, we await with glad expectation the day that you can pound on him again in that way that brothers have. The way that says “I love you.” It will come, so keep walking.