# 13 Holy Wit – Sidecar Reflections
I Am With You: Courage Rooted in God’s Nearness – Ephesians 2
The Distance Between
The man stood at the edge of the property line, hat in his hands.
It wasn’t a grand place — just a farmhouse with a wide porch and a field that sloped down toward a line of cottonwoods. The gravel drive curved in from the road and stopped neatly in front of the house. A dog slept somewhere in the shade. The afternoon was quiet enough that you could hear the wind working its way through the grass.
The man at the edge of the yard had not always been welcome there.
Years earlier he had done the sort of damage that makes distance necessary. Words spoken that couldn’t be unsaid. Trust broken in ways that don’t heal quickly. No court had been involved. No police report had been written. But everyone involved knew what had happened, and for a long time the result was the same simple arrangement: he stayed away.
Distance can become a habit.
Not a dramatic distance. Just a quiet understanding that certain roads are no longer yours to travel.
But then one day a letter arrived.
It was short. No speeches. No rehearsed sentiment. Just a few lines written plainly.
“You can come back now. The gate’s open.”
So there he stood at the edge of the property, unsure how far the invitation actually went. The gate really was open, but open gates do not immediately erase old memories. He could see the house, the porch, the path leading up to the door. But years of distance had taught him that seeing a place and belonging there are two different things.
He shifted his weight and looked again.
The door opened.
The owner stepped out onto the porch and raised a hand.
“You don’t have to stand out there,” he called.
“Come on up. You’re not far off anymore.”
And that — in a small human way — is the movement Paul describes in Ephesians 2.
Except the distance in his letter is infinitely greater.
Paul says that humanity was not merely outside the gate. We were far off. Not temporarily estranged. Not waiting for the right apology. Far off in every direction that mattered — spiritually dead, separated from the promises of God, without hope and without God in the world.
It is one of the most uncomfortable descriptions in the New Testament.
Because it means the problem was not that we were struggling to find God.
The problem was that we were nowhere near Him.
And if that were the end of the story, Scripture would be a very short book.
But Ephesians 2 turns on two of the most beautiful words in the Bible:
“But now.”
“But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.”
Notice the direction of movement.
Paul does not say we found our way back.
He says we were brought near.
That is the quiet miracle behind every promise in the “I Am With You” passages we have been studying. When God tells Joshua not to fear because He will be with him… when David tells Solomon to be strong because the Lord will not forsake him… when Isaiah reminds weary believers that God carries them even into old age — those promises rest on something deeper than human resolve.
They rest on reconciliation.
God does not merely shout encouragement from across a canyon.
He brings His people close.
That is the work of the gospel.
Through Christ, the distance between God and sinners is crossed. What we could not repair, God restores. What we could not approach, God opens. The door that stood closed is opened not by human effort but by grace.
Which is why Paul says salvation is “by grace… through faith… not of yourselves.”
If the return journey depended on us, we would still be standing at the edge of the property, hat in our hands, wondering if we were allowed to take another step.
But grace changes the geography.
The gate is opened by Christ. The distance is closed by Christ. And the voice from the porch calls us forward.
“You’re not far off anymore.”
And that is why the promise “I am with you” is not merely encouragement.
It is the restored reality of a relationship that grace has made possible.
God’s nearness is not a reward for the strong.
It is a gift for the rescued.
#HolyWitSidecar #GordonMcGinnis #IAmWithYou #Ephesians2
I Am With You: Courage Rooted in God’s Nearness – Ephesians 2
The Distance Between
The man stood at the edge of the property line, hat in his hands.
It wasn’t a grand place — just a farmhouse with a wide porch and a field that sloped down toward a line of cottonwoods. The gravel drive curved in from the road and stopped neatly in front of the house. A dog slept somewhere in the shade. The afternoon was quiet enough that you could hear the wind working its way through the grass.
The man at the edge of the yard had not always been welcome there.
Years earlier he had done the sort of damage that makes distance necessary. Words spoken that couldn’t be unsaid. Trust broken in ways that don’t heal quickly. No court had been involved. No police report had been written. But everyone involved knew what had happened, and for a long time the result was the same simple arrangement: he stayed away.
Distance can become a habit.
Not a dramatic distance. Just a quiet understanding that certain roads are no longer yours to travel.
But then one day a letter arrived.
It was short. No speeches. No rehearsed sentiment. Just a few lines written plainly.
“You can come back now. The gate’s open.”
So there he stood at the edge of the property, unsure how far the invitation actually went. The gate really was open, but open gates do not immediately erase old memories. He could see the house, the porch, the path leading up to the door. But years of distance had taught him that seeing a place and belonging there are two different things.
He shifted his weight and looked again.
The door opened.
The owner stepped out onto the porch and raised a hand.
“You don’t have to stand out there,” he called.
“Come on up. You’re not far off anymore.”
And that — in a small human way — is the movement Paul describes in Ephesians 2.
Except the distance in his letter is infinitely greater.
Paul says that humanity was not merely outside the gate. We were far off. Not temporarily estranged. Not waiting for the right apology. Far off in every direction that mattered — spiritually dead, separated from the promises of God, without hope and without God in the world.
It is one of the most uncomfortable descriptions in the New Testament.
Because it means the problem was not that we were struggling to find God.
The problem was that we were nowhere near Him.
And if that were the end of the story, Scripture would be a very short book.
But Ephesians 2 turns on two of the most beautiful words in the Bible:
“But now.”
“But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.”
Notice the direction of movement.
Paul does not say we found our way back.
He says we were brought near.
That is the quiet miracle behind every promise in the “I Am With You” passages we have been studying. When God tells Joshua not to fear because He will be with him… when David tells Solomon to be strong because the Lord will not forsake him… when Isaiah reminds weary believers that God carries them even into old age — those promises rest on something deeper than human resolve.
They rest on reconciliation.
God does not merely shout encouragement from across a canyon.
He brings His people close.
That is the work of the gospel.
Through Christ, the distance between God and sinners is crossed. What we could not repair, God restores. What we could not approach, God opens. The door that stood closed is opened not by human effort but by grace.
Which is why Paul says salvation is “by grace… through faith… not of yourselves.”
If the return journey depended on us, we would still be standing at the edge of the property, hat in our hands, wondering if we were allowed to take another step.
But grace changes the geography.
The gate is opened by Christ. The distance is closed by Christ. And the voice from the porch calls us forward.
“You’re not far off anymore.”
And that is why the promise “I am with you” is not merely encouragement.
It is the restored reality of a relationship that grace has made possible.
God’s nearness is not a reward for the strong.
It is a gift for the rescued.
#HolyWitSidecar #GordonMcGinnis #IAmWithYou #Ephesians2
# 13 Holy Wit – Sidecar Reflections
I Am With You: Courage Rooted in God’s Nearness – Ephesians 2
The Distance Between
The man stood at the edge of the property line, hat in his hands.
It wasn’t a grand place — just a farmhouse with a wide porch and a field that sloped down toward a line of cottonwoods. The gravel drive curved in from the road and stopped neatly in front of the house. A dog slept somewhere in the shade. The afternoon was quiet enough that you could hear the wind working its way through the grass.
The man at the edge of the yard had not always been welcome there.
Years earlier he had done the sort of damage that makes distance necessary. Words spoken that couldn’t be unsaid. Trust broken in ways that don’t heal quickly. No court had been involved. No police report had been written. But everyone involved knew what had happened, and for a long time the result was the same simple arrangement: he stayed away.
Distance can become a habit.
Not a dramatic distance. Just a quiet understanding that certain roads are no longer yours to travel.
But then one day a letter arrived.
It was short. No speeches. No rehearsed sentiment. Just a few lines written plainly.
“You can come back now. The gate’s open.”
So there he stood at the edge of the property, unsure how far the invitation actually went. The gate really was open, but open gates do not immediately erase old memories. He could see the house, the porch, the path leading up to the door. But years of distance had taught him that seeing a place and belonging there are two different things.
He shifted his weight and looked again.
The door opened.
The owner stepped out onto the porch and raised a hand.
“You don’t have to stand out there,” he called.
“Come on up. You’re not far off anymore.”
And that — in a small human way — is the movement Paul describes in Ephesians 2.
Except the distance in his letter is infinitely greater.
Paul says that humanity was not merely outside the gate. We were far off. Not temporarily estranged. Not waiting for the right apology. Far off in every direction that mattered — spiritually dead, separated from the promises of God, without hope and without God in the world.
It is one of the most uncomfortable descriptions in the New Testament.
Because it means the problem was not that we were struggling to find God.
The problem was that we were nowhere near Him.
And if that were the end of the story, Scripture would be a very short book.
But Ephesians 2 turns on two of the most beautiful words in the Bible:
“But now.”
“But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.”
Notice the direction of movement.
Paul does not say we found our way back.
He says we were brought near.
That is the quiet miracle behind every promise in the “I Am With You” passages we have been studying. When God tells Joshua not to fear because He will be with him… when David tells Solomon to be strong because the Lord will not forsake him… when Isaiah reminds weary believers that God carries them even into old age — those promises rest on something deeper than human resolve.
They rest on reconciliation.
God does not merely shout encouragement from across a canyon.
He brings His people close.
That is the work of the gospel.
Through Christ, the distance between God and sinners is crossed. What we could not repair, God restores. What we could not approach, God opens. The door that stood closed is opened not by human effort but by grace.
Which is why Paul says salvation is “by grace… through faith… not of yourselves.”
If the return journey depended on us, we would still be standing at the edge of the property, hat in our hands, wondering if we were allowed to take another step.
But grace changes the geography.
The gate is opened by Christ. The distance is closed by Christ. And the voice from the porch calls us forward.
“You’re not far off anymore.”
And that is why the promise “I am with you” is not merely encouragement.
It is the restored reality of a relationship that grace has made possible.
God’s nearness is not a reward for the strong.
It is a gift for the rescued.
#HolyWitSidecar #GordonMcGinnis #IAmWithYou #Ephesians2
0 Comments
0 Shares
24 Views
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek
हिन्दी