Startled by the subtlety of life
February 11, 2011
{I actually wrote this column last week, but I enjoyed it so much that I wanted to go ahead and use it as a fresh start to the new year, as I am continually reflecting on the way to ‘see into the life of things.’}
It feels good to be writing again. Over the past several weeks, I’ve concocted multiple columns in my head, planning the perfect one for this first piece of 2011.
And then the weekend happened.
You’ve probably forgotten the theme of my column,since I’d forgotten it myself.
The “relationship” with God that I live for thrives on the unexpected moments when He reveals Himself so powerfully, I can do nothing else but lay myself down so that He can ‘sweep my mess away’ (thanks, Johnny Flynn; and thanks, Dalton, for the recommendation) and leave me with nothing but this soulful existence.
Perhaps my worst spiritual flaw is something I’ve been exploring lately—a lack of mindfulness. In many ways, I am obnoxiously observant of pretty useless information.
In other words, I tend to remain painfully oblivious to the reality of God’s world around me. I forget to look for glimpses of His love in the beauty of creation and His created ones.
I get so busy looking down that He has to gently lift my chin up so I can see clearly again—but only when I’m willing to stop long enough for Him to catch me.
The past few days brought Him back to me in subtly powerful moments. I felt God through little children who can show me Starry Night and read me the Wii manual for Lego Batman while curled up in my lap.
I saw Him in the older couple who shared a cup of coffee so that there would be enough for all of us on Sunday morning. And I heard His gentle voice while reciting the Apostles Creed in worship with Dr. Hagen at my side.
My Father continues to reveal Himself to me in the simplest ways that startle me with their sweetness. He is there all the time when I am willing to pay attention.
I needed the reminder that these moments are why I long to write. I live for the days when my God shows up, when He is quiet but unmistakable. These are the days when I find myself deeply humbled by the power of a Creator who loves through His creation—who gives us tangible glimpses because words can never express the essence of who He is.
It takes nights like Friday’s concert with the Profs to leave me blown away by the Father who brings us both great wisdom and great art through people I respect profoundly—and talks after with lovely friends in a comfortable atmosphere (I could have devoted an entire column to that evening, but it just feels too sacred to desecrate with a lot of explanation).
And I know that, surely, each of these moments won’t resonate with you as they now do for me. But in an important sense, that seems to be the point. It is up to each of us to be mindful in such a way that we notice these sacred moments in our lives so that we can share them together—a sort of mutual accountability that helps us see God in community with each other.
He longs for us to find Him in the ordinary, and He loves to show Himself to us when we least expect it—if only we are seeking. It is my personal conviction that this is a great aspect of how we do this ‘Christian thing:’ God shows up as we are simply living life, and He teaches us more through our experience than our words can ever fully describe.
Look for those moments, and they will find you.
