Hi my name is...

An angel of the LORD came to Manoah to tell him that he would soon be the father of a child called Samson.  Overjoyed, Manoah inquired of the angel of the LORD, “What is your name, so that we may honor you when your word comes true?” The angel replied, “Why do you ask my name? It is pil’iy.”

The Hebrew word pil’iy is translated a few different ways:

Too wonderful to know.

Extraordinarily unknowable.

Incomprehensibly beautiful.

Whoa.  In other words, try swallowing a concept like eternity, or do your best to understand what it means that the universe is unending, going on for light years and light years and light years and light years and light years…and then, then you’ll be close to being ready to hear and comprehend my name.  Good luck. 

And to think, this is just an angel of the LORD.  How much more pil’iy is the Name of the one who spoke something into nothing, the one who has always been, the one who engineered every blade of grass in every back yard and every star in every solar system, the one who created even the angel that visited Manoah.  This God is pil’iy! 

I’m starting to understand why the LORD told Moses that His name is I AM.  What else could God say?  Moses had come from a nation in which god’s were conceivable, there names were knowable and familiar, even taking the forms of animals.  But our God? Nope.  Sorry, Moses, if you want me to give you a name by which you can comprehend my full nature, you’d better just tell the people that “ME” sent you.  I’m just ME.  Come and find out what that means. 

And since God’s revelation to Israel so many thousands of years ago, God’s people have not stopped learning just who He is. 

He is a God whose might turns the most powerful man on the earth into a sobbing baby in order to free His people.

He is a God whose majesty sets the mountain on fire.

He is a God whose secret whisper breaks the cedars, whose laughter organized the periodic table of elements, whose shout orchestrates the galaxies. 

He is a God whose established the matrix for creation. 

But the most incredible, the most wonderful, the most pil’iy aspect of His identity is this: He let tiny men spit in His face.  Literally.  He put on flesh like people put on pants, He allowed Himself to be imprisoned my matter, He let us whip Him, beat Him, spit in His face, and nail Him to a tree.  He died. God died like a wild boy at recess sprinting past no-man’s-land to steal the flag.  Our God undid death by dying before running back victorious with His prize in His hand.  This is my God.

Can you hear Him laughing now when Moses asks for His Name?  Uh…Moses, you’re just going to have to get to know me.  My Name is pil’iy. 

This is why the angels around the throne are covering their faces.  This is why heaven is forever; the character of God—the wonder, beauty, and glory of His Name will take just that long to experience.  This is why I love Him.