Zechariah 12:7-10 (ESV)

[7] “And the LORD will give salvation to the tents of Judah first, that the glory of the house of David and the glory of the inhabitants of Jerusalem may not surpass that of Judah. [8] On that day the LORD will protect the inhabitants of Jerusalem, so that the feeblest among them on that day shall be like David, and the house of David shall be like God, like the angel of the LORD, going before them. [9] And on that day I will seek to destroy all the nations that come against Jerusalem.

[10] “And I will pour out on the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem a spirit of grace and pleas for mercy, so that, when they look on me, on him whom they have pierced, they shall mourn for him, as one mourns for an only child, and weep bitterly over him, as one weeps over a firstborn.

On that day, “the feeblest among them . . . shall be like David.” That’s what we want to see. We want the blessing of God. We want to experience the glory. But there is another side of this. Not only will the people of God experience blessing and glory, they will mourn and “weep bitterly.” There is both a glory and a brokenness that comes when meeting God. When we only seek the glory we ultimately find neither. When the prophets encountered God, or even an angel, they often fell on their faces. John had rested against Jesus at the Last Supper like a son with a father, but when he encountered that same Jesus in Revelation, he “fell at his feet as though dead” (Rev 1:17).

As believers, we do not walk in fear, but in faith. Yet we must never lose the fear of the Lord. There is a brokenness that comes in encountering the Almighty. We recognize our own frailty. We acknowledge our own brokenness. We see our own sinfulness and depravity in a way that we had never seen it before. It is appropriate to think of Jesus embracing us when we enter Heaven, but I think we may fall on our faces first. Then, as with John, he will lay his hand on us and say, “Fear not” (Rev 1:17).

I recall a time in elementary school when we students had gotten to be close with our teacher. We were pals. One day on the way out the door to the playground I flicked my hat at him as he was telling us something. He pulled me aside and reminded my that he was the teacher and I was to respect that position. I had crossed the line from friendship to familiarity, from pals to being disrespectful.

I wonder in some of our worship if we don’t cross that line with God. We want to experience the glory, but we skip the mourning. We want the celebration, but skip the grieving. We lift ourselves up and dance into the presence of God without waiting for him to extend his scepter (see Esther 5:1-2). We rush forward for the hug, oblivious to the overwhelming greatness of the one we are approaching. John fell at his feet as though dead. The inhabitants of Jerusalem and Judah would mourn at his return even as he glorifies them. Can we really have the glory without the grief? I wonder. There is both a glory and a brokenness that comes when meeting God. We need to experience them both.