“Lord, what is it about us that you would even notice us? Why do you even bother with us? For man is nothing but a faint whisper, a mere breath. We spend our days like nothing more than a passing shadow.” (Psalm 144:3-4 TPT)
A few years ago, I went to visit the Muir Woods in California. There is a grove of redwood trees in this park. I had heard and read about these trees, and I was eager to see them for myself. Until I stood next to one, I couldn’t grasp the immensity of its size. The trunks were so wide; my outstretched arms couldn’t cover even a fraction of their girth. I strained my neck back, but I couldn’t see the tree tops. I felt so small in comparison. I learned that some of these trees have been alive for thousands of years--before the first European settlers even knew about the existence of the North American continent. I was in awe.
As I read the above verses of Psalm 144, I was reminded of how I felt near the redwoods. It was my littleness next to these ancient, giant trees that allowed me to recognize their greatness. I often try to wrap my mind around the expansiveness of God’s creation, His power, His glory, and His majesty--but my comprehension does not stretch that far. What I can sense is my smallness. I know I am weak and powerless. I understand that my life is fragile--a faint whisper, a mere breath, a passing shadow. In the hush of this realization comes a revelation: It is my insignificance that allows me to worship God’s magnificence.
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