(11) . . . almighty

In all ages the people of God have been laughed to scorn and harassed to death. Yet in their distress they were upheld by believing in the Almighty God. Their faith in God’s final victory over all their enemies gave them the hope and the courage to sing even in their darkest hours. Christians knew that men had done their very worst to the Son of the Almighty upon the cross, but that nevertheless Christ had risen from the dead, showing himself to be Lord of all. With such a Savior and such a Father they could lift up their hearts. So the faithful, though victims, may still rejoice, for the Lord God Omnipotent reigns!

I believe in the Almighty. All my powers come from him, even my ability to believe in him. By myself I am utterly weak. Every move I make depends on food that I did not make. I require so many things to keep on living that I spend most of my life trying to gather them together. But the Almighty does not have to strain and struggle for dear life. At the end of my day I am at the end of my energy and I drop off to sleep. The Almighty, however, does not nod upon his throne. I can change things around in my household, in my office, and sometimes in my neighborhood or town. But beyond that my powers have little effect. The arm of the Almighty reaches to the ends of the earth and to the end of all ends. A small cord is quite sufficient to tie me up, but a cable as great as the Milky Way could not bind the Almighty. A tiny bullet can finish me off, but the explosion of ten thousand suns is all in a day’s work for him. I can only look upon the outside of things that are near me. The Almighty is always looking right into the core of everything everywhere. There is no hiding from him. Nor will he ever lose or mislay me.

I believe that the Almighty is also the All-Good because it was Christ whom he raised up from the dead. He honored the best that has ever been. I’m glad that the All-Good, the Almighty, has chosen to be a Father to me. Suppose he were like a great oat and I a little mouse in his grasp. If the one with all the power were also the All-Wicked . . . ! If the Almighty were even such a one as I am, what a nightmare the world would become! Yet sometimes I forget what I am and almost presume to tell the Almighty how he ought to be running his world. I’m glad I don’t have all the responsibility he carries. The world should be glad of it, too! Sometimes I get so tired of the stream of telephone calls and appointments. When I’m worn out by pleas and clamoring needs, I long for a day off, a holiday. But the Almighty never gets a day off. When it’s quitting time for God, that will be the finale of everything.