In Response: Christ the Verb

There’s just something beautiful about arms- the ability to enclose and encompass, to wrap around and comfort, expressing love through a touch.

Allison, the verb – made for love.

If love is patient, love is kind and love is a person, then I want to wrap my arms around him, the expression of love.

If I reach and he is shown through my reaching, then I will be Christ to the world. I am an act of love when I take a single breath, dust a single shelf, write a single word, hold a single hand. Christ in me makes it so.

Aren’t we made in the image of eternity; of substance formed by eternal hands; breathing air the eternal breathed?

Every breath we take is comprised of 150 million molecules Jesus inhaled and exhaled while living on this earth.

Aren’t we horizontal in space and time; looking ahead in this dimension- grasping to understand our beginning and end? Is there an end or only beginnings?

Yet isn’t eternity vertical; in the here and now as we embrace the Holy Spirit within us; in communion with the living God?

As we connect with our boundless God, some scientists postulate that we are infinite in the subatomic direction; as small and infinite as we are large and infinite.

Each body houses 60,000 miles of blood vessels; 2 ½ times the diameter of the earth. The heart pumps two and a half billion times over an average life span, coursing 60 million gallons of blood through the body. The brain can hold so much information it would take a 500-mile long bookshelf to hold it all.

So much confined in bodies that the largeness in our smallness is overwhelming, showing we were created by a limitless God; a God who had the guts to place eternity in me; a God who dwells in me, loves me.

Me –A being that is a dichotomy of sorts.

I am the beauty of His handiwork and a ragged ugly sinner;
Created in God’s image but decaying because of sin.
I want to do what is right but I don’t do it.
I will live forever but can’t see past today.

Me-Surrounded by a physical shell that reacts to music, loss, joy, fear, art, in a physical way.

As a child I remember lying on my parents bed for what seemed like hours on end. I’d squint and make shapes with the dots on the ceiling, then close my eyes and focus on the tiny reverberations in my body; like I was creating a little earthquake with the minute movements. They were those shudders you look for in your loved one laying in the casket, like the quiver of the lip, the lifting of an eyelid or the shaking of a hand when it has been held in the air for a long time.

We all create earthquakes- it’s part of being alive.

When  God is speaking to me, I am more aware of the earthquakes I create.

The rumble when I touch someone I love-
The quiver when I try something new-
The shudder when I realize I am not at the center of the world, but at the cracking fault line- where sin shifted the sands of God’s perfect Eden.

He reached his arms down from heaven and encompassed us in that garden, then at the cross. Then He sent The Comforter as an eternal heart shawl- to enclose and comfort- the always-warmth in a world of ice where death formed a ghostly skeleton holding a scythe.

Death as a noun is a mysterious and intangible thing, but as a verb or an adjective it cuts like a knife – as real as reality can get until Heaven replaces the sting with the fulfillment.

Don’t we all have a visceral longing to “unknow” death and the grave?

Death = the noun
The Grave = the memory

Since the bite of the fruit, mankind has had an innate recollection of the way things ought to be, engraved in our spirit, under our skin, and the headstones in the cemetery.

Before shame Jesus walked with them in a garden- blooming with life, treading footsteps that did not crush or trample.

One bite.

Then blood spilled as He fashioned clothing from dead animals for the sinners- God’s image bearers wearing death clothes to conceal their nakedness and shame. It was a temporary covering, like a lamb’s blood for forgiveness until the Spotless One.

He spread his arms and covered us, once and for all, a garment of blood after the death bite to remove that shame.

Limitless forgiveness offered by a limitless God, for us, his image bearers.

Christ, the verb.

Published by AllisonGraber

Allison Graber is a Nashville writer and lover of Jesus. She is 14-years married to Lynn, a mix engineer with quiet ways and a loyal spirit. Her two little girls, Ellis and Adeleine, daily coax delight out of her heart. The paradigm through which she sees the world has been built brick-by-brick from her experiences with her Jesus, her love of people, through loss, curiosity, Holy words, and through the surprising joy of motherhood. She writes about these things at

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