mini revelation

I've been having these brief moments of clarity for the past couple of weeks that I just don't know how to describe. (This is going to make for a great blog entry, hmm?)

I don't know what actually counts as a "revelation," but I don't think that's what this is. I think of a revelation as understanding something you didn't previously understand. Or understanding something to a level you couldn't previously comprehend. I don't think that's what's happening. I think "clarity" is really the best word. It's as if, for the span of a deep breath, the veil is removed and my spirit completely understands something about God that my mind has known for years.

The first one happened toward the end of The Call in Nashville. We were in the middle of a worship set. I was standing - eyes closed and arms raised - when I was suddenly, very aware of God's grace. It's something that I knew, and you know, and when I try to explain in a minute - unless the Holy Spirit assists - you'll nod at, completely unmoved. I'm still going to try. Pray for ears to hear before you read this, or something.

I stood, singing a song I didn't know, but whose chorus was simple enough to remember after the first couple presentations. One line was a very basic lyric about redemption - so unremarkable that I don't remember a word of it now - and as it was sung for the third or thirteenth time the Lord moved it through my spirit and broke something inside of me.

He breathes life into me, not once, but every time I inhale. From the beginning of the beginning He loved me with a heart I will never see the depths of, and for so long I maliciously and intentionally spit in His face. At that moment, though, as I sang that song, He loved me perfectly and for no other reason than He wanted to. His sacrifice was so great, and his mercy is so consuming that it should cost everything. It should cost hell. I realize on the one hand it does cost everything, but not like it should. There is nothing I can do, and only because He wanted it that way.

Because He could have put a cost on it. Purgatory could have been real; indulgences could have been real; He could have assigned a terrible cost and He would have been just in doing so. He didn't want to, though, and in looking over myself I couldn't understand why.

Of course I still don't understand why, but I think He replaces the veil because a person couldn't live day to day with that kind of burden.

But you know all that, and this - like I said - is a bad blog entry because you can't blog about what words can't express. It's been happening every few days since Nashville, though, and I like it.