When I’m with him I feel productive. I can’t turn my mind off. When I sit down to spend time with him, to simply soak in his presence, there is so much of him, I can’t stop the ideas that come into my head, as if whispered to me for direction. It happens that way sometimes.
I want to pop my praying head up and grab my computer. To write what he’s just said, to act on his direction.
I feel like a thoroughbred at the starting gate and I just want it to open so I can run my race. I’m itching to!
And then I feel guilty because I need to take a moment. To be quiet and still.
Those moments are far too few.
I do try to make time for them, for him, but most days are so full of things to do, I’m not always faithful this way.
And so, I sit and I steep. I gather myself and relax in the warm presence of God, allowing him to penetrate every part of me, and when the fragments come, I breathe through them, allowing him to show me things. Allowing myself to feel this soft God who is so very gentle with me.
The one who hides me under his wings and keeps me in his shadow, where it is dark sometimes but where I am closest to him.
The one who shows me things and talks to me and gives me all sorts of information to work with. The one who gives me ideas that are not of me and can only be from him and those are the ones he wants me to act upon.
The one who wants me to run the good race and finish well, with his help.
Sometimes, he is the one blowing the trumpet and sounding the bell and opening the gate.
But first I’ll need to take a moment.
For in the day of trouble
he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
He will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent
and set me high upon a rock.