Covenant...'you are forever loved'

“I now establish my covenant with you and with your descendants after you

And with every living creature that was with you...

Never again will all life be cut off by the waters of a flood;

Never again will there be a flood to destroy the earth" (Gen 9:9-11).

 

            In this one historical moment, six chapters into the Great Story, God is immediately offering his eternal judgment and verdict on the entire, grave situation facing his children, his earth, and himself as Creator.

             ‘All is hopeless, my children, and I am infinitely grieved. Yes, it is so. This was not my plan. I did not desire for it to be this way, for you to go this route. But you, my children, were given my breath, were made in my image and, therefore, yours is the ability to choose how life will look. You chose pain and it means death. I grieve for you! Oh my children, I want nothing more than to destroy you, for that would be the most merciful thing I could do; to end it all knowing what is to come, what torture and anguish you are about to endure. But I won’t. For I am God, your Father. And you are mine. I created you and you are mine. I will go through this with you and I will save you. My Word creates and therefore my Word will repair and redeem. For I am God. Love is my name. I am in this with you, for my Word named Love is greater than wickedness.’

            This is the meaning of covenant.

            A covenant is simply a promise, a binding promise. And if God is the one promising, then we can trust it is true. In sheltering Noah, God looked at the entire throng of the human race—where you and I stand—and said, “You are all guilty.” And then he tore off the hem of his sleeve and placed his arm next to ours. With the garment now torn--top to bottom--he bound his arm to ours and pulled the knot tight, so tight that blood was drawn as it cut into his wrist. Then, solemnly and steadily, he whispered forth our eternal sentence,

“And the sentence for your guilt shall be mercy…Do not fear. I will save you. Now let us walk through the fire.”

            “What are you doing?” I ask, as he binds himself onto me facing the caldron before us.
            “We will do this together,” he says.
            “What? You don’t have to be here, God. You didn’t do anything wrong. I did! You don’t have to die in the fire with me!
            “Yes I do. For you are my son, and I am your Father. And that is what Father’s do…And you will not die in this fire. The flames will not consume you, because they cannot consume me.”
            “How is this so?”
            “Because I AM…and you are mine.”
            And so we step into the scorching fire and I hide my face in my Father’s breast.

            My dad told me a story about a camp he oversaw. It was a camp for children with special needs. Each child received a buddy, an older counselor, who enjoyed the day with the camper participating in each activity with them. One camper was a young girl with autism. She was very easily overwhelmed by fits of anxiety, and when these terrifying episodes filled her, she would clutch her hair and fall to the ground. She would lie on her face pulling her hair tight until it ripped from her scalp, unmoving and paralyzed by the fear.

            But that is when her buddy, a teenage girl, would very slowly and gingerly lower herself next to the paralyzed girl until she was lying directly beside her, her body contorted to try and make the young girl feel comforted, relaxed. She then would whisper into her ear. I do not know what she said. And as she whispered, lying next to the girl face down with clenched hands of hair, she would softly touch the girl’s fists and try and get her to release her hair. After moments or minutes, the terrified young girl would relax, the whispers and the touch of her buddy’s hands working.

            Then, always flowing from the gentleness of the process, the teenage girl would help the young girl raise her head, then her arms, then her body, and gradually, interconnected and embracing, the two would stand up. Sometimes, the young girl would grow suddenly afraid and lash out at her buddy striking the teenage girl’s face. But the teenage girl would not flinch. She would just suffer the blow as if nothing happened, continue to whisper to her, stroke her hands gently and try to calm her down until the fit of anxiety passed.

            Finally, after an indefinite amount of time, the two would stand back up and resume their day, at least until the next fit of anxiety called anew for this act of love, grace, and forgiveness.

            Is this not how God acts toward us every day?

He touches us or provides for us and we are utterly convinced that his love will never forsake us. But then we sin, or hardships arise, and in tear-stricken paranoia we cry out, “Where are you God?” We collapse to the ground paralyzed, lost in the chaos of some storm. And slowly, gently, God lowers himself beside us and whispers words that only we know; that he will not leave us, that his love is eternal, that everything is ok. He is dealing with it all. All the pain and all the hurt, he is taking care of it. And as he has always provided for us in the past, he promises he will provide for us even today. For we are his he says. As it was with Noah, so it is with us.

 

The covenant remains firm, he promises...we are his.

And he grabs our hands which are ripping out our own hair and we slowly sink into the embrace of his Spirit. We grow calm and begin to stand back up. Sometimes, the fear pierces us again and we strike God out of instinct, because we are so afraid, because we are infected creatures, infected with fear. But he does not mention it. He shows no signs that he even felt it. He just continues to speak soothing words to us and lifts us back up into our relationship of oneness, of faith. And the fear ceases and we live again until the next fit of anxiety grips our soul and hurls us back onto the cold earth.

 But once and forevermore, you can be certain that he will be beside you in the dirt, whispering into your ear, “You are mine…I will never let go.”