How Far Will He Go?

Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?  If I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
-King David to the Lord God

How far will the Lord go to have us?

The King James translation of the Scripture quoted above uses the word “hell” for “depths,” an accurate translation of the Hebrew word שאול (Sheol).  Sheol means “grave” or “pit” or “the abode of the dead.”  What David is saying here is really scandalous… that no matter where he turns, God is going to be there with him, that no matter where he takes his heart, his God will go with him to that place, only to be with him, only to have him.  (Proof of this is the hell of the Cross that Jesus went through.)

If I really make my bed in the depths of hell, really — meaning, if I really should run as far and as fast in the opposite direction of God and life and freedom and chain myself to soul-whores and lay my heart out on the alter of my idols that steal my life and breath and if I seal my mouth with a death-mask to suffocate myself — will He really still be there, “His right hand to hold me fast?”

The reason this is so obscene is that it shatters our comfy-cozy pictures of God, our flimsy perceptions that melt when the heat gets turned up in our lives.  The God that David sings to here — and no doubt David surely knows what it is to be in the deep, lonely dark of hell on earth — this is a bold-ass God, one with a heart that is merciful, resistless, fierce, and fiercely determined to have our hearts, no matter what we do with them or where we take them.

Imagine the implications of this.  Wherever we are, right now, God is holding fast to us.  God is a blink away, a turn of the head, a imperceptible whisper, a collapse, a stumble, a glance.  Certainly hell is not where God wants us to make our beds, but David knew a God who would reach that far to be with him, to be near him, to bring him back home to His heart.

The direction of our entire lives can change with the subtlest and weakest nod in the direction of life, the faintest heart-cry for rescue.  He knocks at our heart’s door — oh, does He knock!  And throw rocks to our windows and cry out for us to let Him in! — and we only have to muster the strength to turn the knob… and in He rushes, catches us, anchors us, and invites us to a table fellowship, a friendship, to be His companion through it all.

This is astounding.  It is a moonshine-grace so pure as to blind anyone who would dare sip it, and all the while give us eyes to really see the lovesick heart of this pursuing God who will have us, no matter what.

Nothing is beyond Him, including you and me right here, right now.  His life wins us back from death.  This is salvation, being saved by His life (Romans 5:10).