The Kingdom and the Power and the Glory

 Now and forever

“Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever” (Matthew 6:13 NKJV).

When I recite this line from the Lord’s Prayer in church or during my personal devotional time, that last word, “forever,” grabs my attention.

Forever. That’s a long time. An endless eternity. Unimaginable. As I think about the implications of forever, I find myself contemplating a God who is so far above my minuscule human mind and mortal human body that I will never come anywhere close to understanding Him in this life. I need this reminder of His greatness and my smallness.

But one day, while meditating on this sentence, I realize that that little word “forever” can take me too far down a certain road. I seem to be thinking: not Yours is, but Yours will be. Looking to the far-off future in awe and wonder, anticipating that day when God really will have the kingdom and the power and the glory. As if He doesn’t have them right now. As if I’m waiting, and will have to continue waiting, for these words to be fulfilled. As if this is a prophecy, not a statement of the current reality.

When I look at my world, when I see the rebellion and violence and sin, do I honestly believe that God is the all-powerful, glorious king right now? And yet that’s what this prayer, spoken by Jesus Himself, is saying. Is. Not will be. Both now and forever.

My warped view of God

How do I reconcile this idea with what I see around me? How do I really believe, not just shut down the part of my brain that wants to question it, but truly, firmly, undoubtingly believe that God’s is the kingdom and the power and the glory right now?

To my human eyes, God can look like a lax dad who lets his children get away with too much. He has the title and the presumed authority, but everyone knows that he’s not really in control. When I’m feeling discouraged and doubtful, when Satan is shooting his flaming darts at me, is this how I think of God? Is this how I explain the trials and tragedies all around me? Am I imagining that He isn’t ruling very well just yet, but one day He’ll get it right, and then everything will be fine?

Or do I see Him as being like a superhero facing off against an almost-unbeatable foe? The villain strikes. Our hero comes to the rescue. But the bad guy shows unexpected strength or creativity. Sometimes he even captures the one we’re rooting for. Who will win? How will he do it? The outcome is uncertain. It could go either way. But then, just barely, at the last possible moment before total destruction occurs, the good guy pulls it off.

If God is really all-powerful right now, then why is there so much suffering on this planet? Is He just slightly stronger than Satan, who wins many of the battles by his might and ingenuity in spite of whatever attempts God makes to stop him? Do I sometimes imagine God hanging on by the skin of His teeth until the ultimate battle, when He will finally draw on His last ounce of strength and overthrow evil once and for all?

It doesn’t seem like He has much glory now, either. Especially in our Western culture, where we worship actors and musicians and athletes. They’ve captivated and awed us with their talents and their performances. Haven’t they earned the glory that we give them? What has God done that can rival their accomplishments? It’s so easy to think that He doesn’t really have or deserve much glory now, but when that future forever comes, then He’ll show us what He’s got.

His kingdom and power and glory

As I’m wrestling with these ideas, as I’m trying to understand what I know to be true—that God’s is the kingdom and the power and the glory right now—several thoughts come to mind.

First, I know that everything that I see and think and feel and believe is distorted by sin, Satan, the fall, and the curse. God has revealed enough of Himself in His Word for me to be secure in the knowledge that I can trust Him for my salvation. But absolutely everything that my fallen mind can focus on is tainted, even my view of His character and His actions.

Second, I consider the wonder that this holy and righteous God, who brought into being all that exists, has granted His feeble creatures true freedom to make real choices. Why would a sovereign, all-powerful God do such a thing? Why would He allow His creation to be ruined by petty little humans when He could make it perfectly good and beautiful forever?

The only answer I can find is that He does it out of His love for us. A wise and loving father desires guided freedom for his children, not total control. He knows that that’s what’s best for them and delights in providing it. He freely chooses to restrain his power, to allow them to learn and grow by making their own decisions.

Every day, by my own will, I can behave in ways that impact God’s priceless creation for better or for worse, for good or for evil. I have the power (within the limits that He’s set) to bring joy and gladness or pain and sorrow. When I’m questioning His power, I’m forgetting that He, in His sovereignty and His love, freely allows me to make bad decisions in spite of the consequences.

Third, I realize that, in our fallen state, we cannot gaze on His glory in all its fullness and live. Our mortal bodies are too weak and too corrupted by sin. That was the message behind God’s response to Moses’ request to see His glory in Exodus 33:18-23. God couldn’t allow Moses to look on His full glory (His face); it would destroy him. He could only grant him a partial view (His back).

God has all the glory. Today. Right now. His glory is complete—just as it always has been and always will be. I get a glimpse of it in His creation, His Word, and His actions in my life, but I don’t see all of it because my vision is, by necessity, limited.

And finally, my thoughts circle back to that humbling truth: God is so far above my minuscule human mind and mortal human body that I will never come anywhere close to understanding Him in this life. His is the kingdom and the power and the glory right now. If I have trouble believing that, it’s because of my shortcomings, not His.

 

A Very Human Mary

Mary’s strengths

Mary was human. I know that. And yet my mental image of her verges on superhuman perfection.

Her faith was so much greater than mine. She was so quick to accept God’s will for her life. Her poem in Luke 1:46-56 reveals a depth of understanding of both God’s character and His Word that few teenage girls of her time or any other time have ever achieved. (My thanks to a wise mentor who recently pointed out to me the numerous Old Testament references in this song of praise. She knew her Scripture amazingly well.) At her age, I was just a baby Christian with a great deal to learn.

Mary must have gone through many challenging, puzzling, and painful experiences from Jesus’ conception to His resurrection, yet her faith remained strong. My sense of her personality from the first two chapters of Luke is that she genuinely wanted to please God and follow Him, even when she didn’t understand what was happening. She trusted Him. I’ve always had great admiration for her. But reading through Luke chapter 1 this time around, the main characteristic that strikes me is her humanity.

Gabriel’s visit

One day, the angel Gabriel appears to Mary, presumably as she’s simply going about her normal routine. She must be alone (which would make the situation more difficult) or the story would likely read a little differently. She’s “greatly troubled” by the angel’s greeting. Human. If she was the perfect saint that I want her to be, surely she would humbly and graciously accept his visit with a calm and peaceful heart. In awe, but not troubled.

Gabriel informs Mary that she has nothing to be afraid of and that she’s found favor with God. He tells her that she’s going to get pregnant. This is where her thoughts get stuck. Does she actually hear his next words, describing the incredible child that she’s going to bear? Her response is a confused, “How will this be, since I am a virgin?”

Her entire focus is on the physical logistics: How can a virgin have a baby? She’s probably also thinking about, and fearing, the social and legal repercussions of getting pregnant before being married. She seems to have missed the entire message about Who her Son will be. So human.

Even after Gabriel gives a brief explanation of how Mary’s pregnancy will occur, and reassures her with the words, “Nothing is impossible with God,” Mary seems to be thinking about the immediate, short-term issue, not the great and glorious future. She replies, “I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said.” As if she’s still thinking about the difficulties of her pregnancy, not the joy of the coming Messiah.

My focus

How often do I forget the wonder of God’s promises because I’m too focused on the pesky little details, and the possible shame and suffering, involved in getting there?

Do I think ahead to the miracle of seeing a friend come to salvation? Or do I lock up, hesitating about witnessing to her, because of my fear of looking foolish or being rejected? Do I approach a difficult subject with a family member at the Holy Spirit’s prompting, knowing that our relationship will be strengthened by working through our differences? Or does that seemingly irresistible desire to avoid conflict hold me back?

My Bible study leader is doing a brief series on 2 Thessalonians. Much of the book deals with the Second Coming of Christ. The teacher has warned us right from the start that we need to keep our eyes on the promise and the joy of His appearing, rather than getting bogged down in the details of the specific events. His question: At the end of my days, do I want to be known as one who made the best arguments on social media for a certain interpretation of the end times, one who shut down all the other voices screaming to be heard—or as one who lived a life of love and grace in anticipation of Jesus’ return?

In a recent blog post, Philip Yancey mentions hearing about “congregations torn apart by anger and fear over vaccines and masks.” Are they so concerned about these minor issues, which will mean nothing an eternity from now, that they can’t see the greater, more profound and far-reaching truths concerning the very character of God and His love for all mankind? Sounds like a more extreme version of the short-term thinking that Mary experiences.

My hope

But she also shows a very human ability to learn and grow and remember. Even better than that, she shows a greater-than-human ability to quickly turn her eyes from her own immediate and fearful situation to the far more worthy view of the eternal God and His work in human history. Luke makes it a point to let us know that not much time passes between Mary’s shock at Gabriel’s announcement and her proclamation of God’s wisdom and grace. She might have gotten stuck early on in her conversation with Gabriel, but she didn’t stay there very long.

This is where I find hope for myself and for people everywhere. As long as I can learn and grow and remember even in these difficult times, even when my country seems to be irretrievably wrapped up in venomous disputes over minor questions, I can change for the better, and maybe be a part of changing this world for the better.

Like Mary, I can shift my mind from self-concern and worrying about the little details to the great good news of who God is and how He is fulfilling His promises for this planet. Just as Mary accepted her challenging role in God’s plan, I can live out my life following Jesus’ example by loving my enemies and drawing others to Him regardless of the cost.