At one point in this crazy last week, I sat down to find some quiet and renew my soul. Abby was sleeping a few feet away, and I was too tired (as I often am lately) to do deep Bible study on my own or to journal. My thoughts barely seemed coherent enough to speak, much less write.
When I find myself in this soul-and-body-weary place, my go-to refreshments are a cup of coffee/tea and a dose of Ann Voskamp’s blog. On this particular day, she was writing about a question she had been asked…and stumped by…
“How do you see God?”
Eventually, she arrived at this conclusion:
We see God when we let go. When we let go of the visible, papery skin that surrounds our moments, then we see the sacred jewel gleaming just underneath everything. . . . When we cup the thinning, fragile places, the places worn right through, the dying and flaking away and hardly-holding-together-places, this is when we see the amber of Holiness. Stripping away the sheath of self, this is how we see God. In a lace of brokenness, light dances with shadows.
I’ve found myself pondering the question for myself…
“How do I see God?”
You see, it’s a question we should all be asking. How do we stand before the Burning Bush in our hearts and hear the Voice of Holiness?
I’m not looking for some mystical answer. Life is too rushed to hope that our only connection with the Father God happens when all the circumstances align just right to hope that mystery would speak to us on any sort of regular basis.
I’m looking for the answer that speaks to us during the hectic of everyday life, of deadlines, of traffic jams, of shopping lists and to-do lists. How do I see God then?
I’ve been mulling these questions over for days.
I don’t have the answer yet.
Still, I feel that there is an elusive knowing tugging at my heart. A knowing that hints of calling and recognizing and thanking and accepting.
This knowing compels me to evaluate how I view and treat the rush and the crazy. Am I undone by it or do I embrace it? Am I emptied or am I filled at the end of each day?
This knowing compels me to question my calling. Am I filling my days with what God created me for or am I kept busy by tasks I detest?
This knowing compels me to question the pause. Am I pausing to breathe, to look Heavenward, to accept the miraculous in the mundane?
How do you see God? ~Ponder, sip your coffee, and join in this journey by leaving me a comment. ~
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