lush light moon

Sometimes I wonder God must do up in heaven.

I like to picture him lying on his stomach, hands perched under his chin, supporting the weight of his thoughtful head as he peers through a break in the clouds, observing all of us little ants running to and fro, scurrying about to "do something important."

(Obviously, I'm taking my cues from bad hollywood movies. I apologize in advance for offending anyone that doesn't believe that God looks like a sixty-year-old man, tramping about on a cloud, roughly four stories tall and sporting a long beard, white robe and birkenstocks .)

As I think my vision suggests, I have no freaking idea what God is doing at this very moment. I've always sort of known that, but tonight my pastor pointed out something brilliant - some dudes in the bible were clueless too.

We dug in to 1 Samuel 4, and dissected the sheer idiocy of the Israelites in verse 3 as they questioned God's lack of intervention and ran for the ark after being throughly beaten by the Philistines. So as Tim wandered the aisles asking what people thought, I was struck by the inherently human need to a) see defeat as God OBVIOUSLY abandoning us, and b) rush to some sort of relic to feel God's presence again.

Tim dug to the center of the earth in this passage and I won't do it justice (to have your mind blown - check it here), but suffice it to say I walked out into the night air realizing that my vision of God has been sorely limited, and I've been looking for old relics to reclaim it.

I haven't felt joy lately like I knew it before I decided to go to Kenya. I thought I'd get it back by trying the old prayer techniques, or as Friday's post suggested, spending a Sabbath in serious alone time. Thing is - that's just not how God's reaching me any more.

When I opened up my definition to include new ideas, my Saturday Sabbath was the best I've had in six months. I spent a total of 20 minutes in prayer. I think the reason it was fantastic was that I stopped and put a step between feeling defeated and seeking a relic. I re-examined what a Sabbath meant. On a glorious moving day filled with friends and laughter it was community, not isolation.

That interaction was more Godly and lifegiving than any solitary "back to nature" exercise. When I sought a different reality for the Sabbath, God showed up, and I didn't have to rely on the past stuff to deliver an old feeling of joy.

As I walked up the stairs to my apartment last night, I stared up at the moon. It was full and hazy and I had another picture of God. He was staring at me through this illuminated orb, causing me to pause. I connected with his gaze then turned to walk up the stairs, distinctly hearing his voice say, "I will give you the desires of your heart."

I fell asleep better last night than I have in months.