Sometimes I sit on a bench and look out at the Los Angeles lights at night. My bench, my imagination, and I travel among the lights and feel a divine secret. It visits me as my bench and I travel, contemplating the weight of the glory around me and the magnitude of the world-at-large.
Then the divine secret exits and leaves in me a holy longing for something other, something higher. Something heavenly.
C.S. Lewis once said that, “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”
Perhaps the divine secret that visits me on my bench overlooking Los Angeles is from another world all together, a realer world, and my holy longing is the part of me designed for that truer world.
I believe that this holy longing and divine secret are visiting each one of us, if we only pay attention. If we only take a moment to breathe and think about creation and what it was originally designed for.
I think the divine secret is solely focused on redemption.
I believe redemption stares back at us from our bench on top of the hill overlooking the lights of Los Angeles. I believe it looks at us and grins and winks, saying “Take my hand, I think you’ll like where we’re going.”
I believe redemption is a man named Jesus with a Father named God, and I believe this is the one secret not meant to be kept.
That’s why I write.