(of a person) Be in or assume a position in which the body is supported by a knee or the knees, typically as a sign of reverence
As a child, i never understood the reason for kneeling.
I remember being a young’un eating ketchup-laden fishballs with my mom when she asked me, “What’s the first thing you will do when you see Jesus in heaven, Justin?
“Will you bow down and worship Him like everyone else, my precious one?”
“I won’t!” Was my reply with the assured confidence of a 6 year old. “When everybody bows down and worship Him, I’ll get up, run toward Him and hug Him!
“Why should I bow down when I can hug Him?”
I meant it — with gusto.
It’s been nearly two decades since we had that conversation but yet I remember it so clearly, and would always revisit that memory whenever I thought about worship.
But now, twenty years into this journey called life, with scrapped knees and bruised eyes, I can no longer say the same.
I can no longer say that I would jump up and hug Jesus with the same gutsy attitude I once had.
How can I? This incapable, weak-minded child who falls time and time again. If not for His grace I would have remained in the dust. If not for His unwavering Love, I would have loved and lusted after other gods. I would have made money my god and women my toys. If not for his everlasting arms, I would have fell into the bottomless pit and never be able to claw my way out again.
But I didn’t claw out of that hole. Heaven’s mighty Arm lifted me out; women gives me no delight and money a mere tool for His kingdom.
If not for His sacrifice, what hope would there have been for a scum like me?
So no, never will I say “I will jump up and run to hug my God when I see Him in heaven for the first time.”
Instead, I would fall before Him with both knees grounded against heaven’s floor, crying — nay — bawling my eyes out.
If not for Him, where else would I be?