Taylor Moore Grasping Smallness
I freeze. I feel like I can’t put into proper words what this is that I’m learning. I’m “too in the midst.” But, I will do my best. I will do my best. I am dirt. Not in a self-deprecating way, but to communicate truth. “I am dirt” is my way of saying I am dust, I have no life by my own command.
Job 40:9-14 connects the dots and brings me full circle.
“Do you have an arm like God’s, and can your voice thunder like His? Then adorn yourself with glory and splendor and clothe yourself in honor and majesty. Unleash the fury of your wrath, look at all who are proud and bring them low; look at all who are proud and humble them; crush the wicked where they stand. Bury them all in the dust together; shroud their faces in the grave. Then, I myself [God] will admit to you that your own right hand can save you.” My arms? My arms are short. My voice? My voice often falls flat. Adorn myself? Adorn myself with glory? Splendor? Majesty and honor? I can barely land on a good pair of pants for the day! I have no ability to do what only You can do, Lord. You will not admit to me that my own right hand can save me, and that is mercy. No matter the “self-empowerment” speech, no matter my “self-confidence,” I can’t say I am “self-made,” or “I woke up like this.” I can’t on my own. And this is grace. I am and you are, dear reader, purely and totally created. Small. No musterable might on the day of need. So, I write. Pleading with you. Begging us to put it down. Put down your religion. Put down the pride. Put down your entitlement. Put down your life. God doesn’t need you to accomplish His work. But He wants to welcome you into the daily, overflowing, reckless
love He has for you and the whole world. Your right hand can’t save you. Only He can.
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