For He, who had always been God by nature, did not cling to His prerogatives as God’s equal, but stripped Himself of all privilege by consenting to be a slave by nature and being born a mortal man. And having become man, He humbled Himself… Phil.2:5
There is a particular beauty in the descent.
It starts high above the clouds. There’s a calm, steady repose to the soaring.
Volcanoes peeking through the clouds in Guatemala.
Then, it happens. The sensation of descent. Of being lowered to a destination
far better than the sky can offer.
It’s hard not to cry.
Because it’s the first descent of many.
Descents to joy. To pain. To a hunger and a filling. A descent into the very arms of God.
Strange that descent should look just like elevation. Then again, Christ has been there – is still there. He knows what it is like to soar, and to intentionally descend. The joy, the pain, the offering of b
etter. He knows it all. Perhaps that’s why it feels so natural, and the expectation of seeing Christ in the faces of the poor and orphaned is so strong.
Courtney and I now sit, breathing in the afternoon like it was the finest of perfumes. Birds are singing and a bell rings in the distance. The countryside is full of color and the sky hangs heavy overhead. We’re ready for the next descent.
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