Everything

There’s a song I can’t get through without weeping called “Everything” by LifeHouse. God’s been whispering the words of that song to my heart for years now, even before LifeHouse penned it.

Am I your everything? He asks.

I hope so, I say.

When the song reaches the crescendo to “You’re all I want. You’re all I need. You’re everything, everything,” I can scarce cry out the words. He is everything I want. The best companion I could imagine. He is everything I need. The best Provider I know.

I want to sing that song at the top of my lungs to anyone who would listen, or to no one in particular. Today I sang it to the house, to the cat, to the whispered air of my room. Jesus, You are everything. I can lose everything, but I couldn’t bear to lose You.

Some people go through their whole lives trying to fill themselves with things, with prestige, with relationships that don’t quite fill, with hopes undeferred for a time, with success, with power, with control, with lies, with fear. But they miss the Everything that is Jesus.

He is better than things. He lasts.

He is more important than prestige. He brings glory to God.

He is the best relationships one could ever hope for. He loves to fill dark recesses of pained hearts with His love.

He is the source of our hope, the kind of hope that does not disappoint.

Where success begs, He brings something better: genuine fulfillment.

He lived the paradox of power made perfect in weakness. And He gives power to the weak.

He gave up control, bowed to the Father’s will, so we could have access to heaven and light and truth and joy and life.

He was and is and will be truth. That truth sheds light on our pain, our self-declaring lies, pointing us to the freedom way of life.

His love lambasts our fear. He conquered death.

In light of all that, I can say, “You’re all I want. You’re all I need. You’re everything, everything” and mean it from the top of my think-too-much head to the bottom of my trod-this-earth feet.

He’s my everything.

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