The poverty of my soul was palpable this morning. There was a warring tension between going to church, being around others, singing the songs I love and hearing the Word delivered to me, OR being silent and still with the Lord at home...I was completely stuck, and feeling really low.
“Be still and know that I am God.” Whispered through my thoughts.
So I stayed home.
I sat on my back porch where no one could see me, bundled in blankets with books of liturgy, scripture and reflections by Thomas Merton sitting on the floor around my feet. Birds filled the air with a peaceful sound and all the world around me had served my soul with His closeness. I didn’t know how much I needed Him.
Just Him.
Crowded schedules and a racing mind keep times like this so far out of reach. But the poverty of my soul had finally, completely arrested me; I felt I had no choice.
Charles Spurgeon led me here,
“There are several instructive features in our Savior’s prayer in his hour of trial. It was a lonely prayer. He withdrew even from His three favored disciples. Believer, be much in solitary prayer, especially in times of trial. Family prayer, social prayer, prayer in the Church, will not suffice, these are very precious, but the best beaten spice will smoke in your censer in your private devotions, where no ear hears but God’s.”
So I sat for a long time.
“Draw near to God and He will draw near to you” (James 4:8)...
His nearness comes by means of confession oftentimes. His nearness comes when I have exhausted all my own resources, when all my personal wisdom has failed again and again, when I no longer have a plan to fix what I have broken, when my sin has left me stuck and the ripple effect has made panic rise up in me. Caught in the storms of chaos with no answer and nothing left to try...He leads me to the prayer of desperation and confession. This moment won’t come during weeks on end of non-stop living. It can’t. Today I am still. I have stopped talking. I have stopped analyzing. I have stopped rushing to figure out how to fix things...I have stopped striving.
Instead I have sat still. I have been surrounded by the birds. I have felt the calm come through my body. I have found a clear mind and deep breaths. I know it has come because He has come near to my crushed spirit.
As I look at His creation all around me and the expanse of the sky above me, I become aware of how much He has and how full He is. A storehouse. A well the doesn’t run dry. All of everything in the whole universe is His and even so, He is bigger than all of that. My soul needs something that big. My dry spirit needs water that won’t stop rushing in. My sin-drenched appetite needs His forgiveness to keeps pouring over me like the tide...
I read about some storms in Scripture...about Jonah and the storm resulting from his resistance of God, about the storm raging in Psalm 107 leaving men afraid and taxed of strength, about the storm in Mark where the disciples were terrified while Jesus was asleep below...My own self feels like a ship at sea tossed and flipped on its side. How do I keep asking for mercy? How can I keep calling out to be rescued when I cause my own waves? How is it even fair to keep expecting Him to deliver and free me and cleanse me? But this is His nature. This is His way. He does not stop accepting, forgiving, loving, freeing, strengthening, giving, comforting, calming...He does not stop.
One Celtic reading I read today quoted a woman by the name of Mary Lyon:
“Nine-tenths of our suffering is caused by others not thinking so much of us as we think they ought.”
Here is where the pride burrows deep. Like a thorn in my side, craving to find the fullness of God who is bigger than the universe from the smallness of people who are buffeted by their own chaotic seas.
But in this stillness, in this set aside quiet...
The love that exceeds the whole universe finds its way into my poverty.
"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for they will be filled..."
A hymn was sent to me this morning...the lyrics are pure nourishment. There are no songs today that match the beauty and power of the old hymns. My grandmother always used to say so...
God of grace and God of glory,
On Thy people pour Thy power.
Crown Thine ancient church’s story,
Bring her bud to glorious flower.
Grant us wisdom, grant us courage,
For the facing of this hour,
For the facing of this hour.
Lo! the hosts of evil ’round us,
Scorn Thy Christ, assail His ways.
From the fears that long have bound us,
Free our hearts to faith and praise.
Grant us wisdom, grant us courage,
For the living of these days,
For the living of these days.
Cure Thy children’s warring madness,
Bend our pride to Thy control.
Shame our wanton selfish gladness,
Rich in things and poor in soul.
Grant us wisdom, grant us courage,
Lest we miss Thy kingdom’s goal,
Lest we miss Thy kingdom’s goal.
Set our feet on lofty places,
Gird our lives that they may be,
Armored with all Christ-like graces,
In the fight to set men free.
Grant us wisdom, grant us courage,
That we fail not man nor Thee,
That we fail not man nor Thee.
Save us from weak resignation,
To the evils we deplore.
Let the search for Thy salvation,
Be our glory evermore.
Grant us wisdom, grant us courage,
Serving Thee Whom we adore,
Serving Thee Whom we adore.
