musings

I've spent a lot of time just being quiet in the Lord's presence lately. At first I would just listen to music or play my guitar after reading a few verses. Then I just started to sit with Him while listening to music. And now, I've found myself sitting, staring dead-still out of my window, asking Him to just be with me. Fighting the temptation to label myself a loon, I've decided that my soul needs just that: perfect quiet.

Oswald Chambers said something in today's entry about prayer not being about getting answers, but about perfect communion with the Living God. And however imperfect sometimes I feel our communion is, I believe he's right. I've been striving and striving and begging and pleading for God to make clear some sort of direction for my life, and have little to no writing in the sky to lead me onward. Frustrated like mad, I have to remind myself that He is more about the process of finding our calling than anything.

And so, as I am so apt at doing, I took perfect, holy knowledge and buried it away. Now far from the light of my conscious, I lay in bed going over and over again different job opportunities and locations that have been popping up recently. As I was weighing each and every possibility with utmost delicacy in taciturn debate, I think I finally realized how much my decision-making is through fear.

Fear.

Fear! How the heck can I claim that I trust Him, if in all actuality, I DON'T. How can begin to seek Him and His will for my life's purpose if I can't let go of the control I have over my circumstances, my finances, my fears. How petty of me to have considered the possibilities of my future by nickels and dimes in comparison to the vastness of the riches of my Holy Father! If in considering the lilies of the field, I find myself still riddled with fear of 'not making it', I must be missing something.

How have I let myself into this trap? I know that I know that I know that He is faithful. His faithful kindness has humbled me on more than one occasion, and still there I lie fretting and fearful over which job would bring me a suitable amount of happiness weighed against a suitable living wage. Ha.

Surely He remembers I am dust. Surely He knows.

And I'm convinced (again) that He does. I wrote these lines in my journal earlier:

"I will rest in the quiet of your nearness;
I am lost in the vastness of your name.
The silence still sings of your praise;
May my heart lay near thine always."

So, I'm back to being quiet before Him. Perfect love casts out all fear. His love casts out my fears.

Glory.