The Observatory

The Observatory
by Max Lucado

A few mornings back I was jogging through my neighborhood, and even I could not miss the significance of that day. It was the first day of school.

It was no surprise to me, then, to see a pretty little girl step out of her house wearing new clothes and a backpack. “Have a great first day of school,” I greeted as I jogged past.

She stopped and looked at me as if I’d pulled a rabbit out of a hat. “How did you know?!”

She was stunned. Somehow I had miraculously discerned why she was up so early and where she was going. And she was impressed.

“Oh, I just know those kind of things,” I shouted back to her. (No need to burst her bubble.)

You, on the other hand, are not so easily impressed. You understand the difference between a child and a grownup. Take the difference between the girl and me, amplify it a million times over, and we begin to see the contrast between us and our Father.

We ask for grace, only to find forgiveness already offered. (How did you know I would sin?)

We ask for food, only to find provision already made. (How did you know I would be hungry?)

We ask for guidance, only to find answers in God’s ancient story. (How did you know what I would ask?)

God dwells in a different realm. “The foolishness of God is higher than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength” (1 Cor. 1:25). He occupies another dimension. “My thoughts are not like your thoughts. Your ways are not like my ways. Just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts” (Isa. 55:8–9).

From The Great House of God
Copyright 1997, Max Lucado