As my son and his new bride celebrated their “first month anniversary” on August 3rd, I began to reflect on the tranquil beauty of their wedding. The guests sat in folding chairs that were arranged diagonally across our sand volleyball court (sans net, of course). Two friends played instrumental guitar music that my son had co-written. David and Rachel spoke simple, heartfelt vows on a patch of grass overlooking a Smoky Mountain panorama. Our home. Blue sky. White clouds. Summer sun. So very simple.
But there was something immense in the heart of God that presided over this unembellished intimacy. People came. And they brought their blessing to it. And I saw . . . even if only in my limited way . . . how very great God is.
If I tried to narrate for you all the different life-stories of the guests that parked their cars at our barn and walked down the gravel drive to this Ohlheiser/Reid wedding, I would need to write a book. Or maybe even a volume of books. Everyone came despite their personal illnesses or their personal tragedies or their personal biases or even their personally hectic schedules. Some had travelled long distances to be with us. All had journeyed through years of friendship or family love with us. They didn’t all know each other. But the God Who Knows came with each of them. There was rich fellowship. We were so very, very grateful.
It was a small wedding. Elegant in its simplicity. Profound in its quiet acknowledgment that the Lord is God. And He is good.
As I now browse through the photo album and let the memories distill themselves through the filter of God’s utter faithfulness, images of a fairy-tale wedding or a dashing-prince groom or a Barbie-princess bride don’t really find footing in my heart. Something else is settling there. Something intimate. Something immense.
But there was something immense in the heart of God that presided over this unembellished intimacy. People came. And they brought their blessing to it. And I saw . . . even if only in my limited way . . . how very great God is.
If I tried to narrate for you all the different life-stories of the guests that parked their cars at our barn and walked down the gravel drive to this Ohlheiser/Reid wedding, I would need to write a book. Or maybe even a volume of books. Everyone came despite their personal illnesses or their personal tragedies or their personal biases or even their personally hectic schedules. Some had travelled long distances to be with us. All had journeyed through years of friendship or family love with us. They didn’t all know each other. But the God Who Knows came with each of them. There was rich fellowship. We were so very, very grateful.
It was a small wedding. Elegant in its simplicity. Profound in its quiet acknowledgment that the Lord is God. And He is good.
As I now browse through the photo album and let the memories distill themselves through the filter of God’s utter faithfulness, images of a fairy-tale wedding or a dashing-prince groom or a Barbie-princess bride don’t really find footing in my heart. Something else is settling there. Something intimate. Something immense.
There is such immensity in God’s intimacy. If we are not vigilant over Truth in our souls, we will miss it. We will miss the largeness of His Love. We will miss the precious variety in His people. We will miss valuable opportunities to offer hope and compassion to those who live outside of our community of believers.
The unfathomable depth of a private relationship with the Creator of the Universe . . . if we let Him pursue us honestly and simply . . . will bring life. Forgiveness. Redemption. Peace. Joy. And much, much more. This truth, for me, is at the heart of David's and Rachel's wedding.
The intimacy of God can be so immense. If we let it.
The intimacy of God can be so immense. If we let it.
Lesa K. Reid
