In a prayer entitled “The Great God,” the author of The Valley of Vision (a Puritan prayer book) extols the wonders of our God. He is capable of destroying pride and breaking pride into pieces. He dwells in my heart, transforming my very person into a sacred dwelling place. One particular line stands out to me:

With thee my heart shall bloom with fragrance…

It is a comforting notion to think that God’s abiding presence within me leads my heart to bloom in fullness. When the scriptures speak of the aroma of Christ, this is not works; it is pure gift.

And with a doxological flourish, the writer bursts into this rapturous verse:

Let angels sing for
sinners repenting,
prodigals restored,
backsliders reclaimed,
Satan’s captives released,
blind eyes opened,
broken hearts bound up,
the despondent cheered,
the self-righteous stripped,
the formalist driven from a refuge of lies,
the ignorant enlightened,
and saints built up in their holy faith.

I ask great things of a great God.

Asking great things of a great God.

Am I wrong to hear in that phrase a question?

Is my asking proportionate to my apprehension?

Are those whose view of God is expansively great therefore more apt to ask exceedingly great things of Him?

I want to be someone who dares to ask great things of a great God.