It is a place where one attempts to drop all walls, all self-deceptions, all excuses, and lay bare one's self before God. It would be despairing, if there were not something to break the fall. All doubts, all false certainties, all attempts at self-justification, all hatreds of oneself; they fall away. One is left with God, who begins the work of removing the scales from one's eyes.
See yourself as I see you. See the world as I see it.
Broken, yet beloved. The space between God and me becomes clear--the space between the sacred and the profane--and yet God is joined to me, and I am in God. The world will go from shades of grey to vibrant color and contrast.
One finds parts of one's very being transfigured. Changed. The parts of me that seemed soiled become pure as I hold it up to God.
This part of you can stay, but it will not stay the same. You will not let it.
"You will not let it." Not a command, but an observation. God reclaims that which God made and turns its purpose back to its original glory.
Things will change once you see as I see. You are forgiven. You are loved. You now know this. Try not to forget it.
Dark buoyancy is replaced by gravity as I feel myself sitting in my chair. No, I wasn't levitating, but I was back from somewhere. I opened my eyes to see the candle, cross, and labyrinth laid out before me.
What I am describing is not a one-time event, but an example of a lifetime's work of returning to God. It happens every time I find a part of my life I have been keeping God away from, either intentionally or by oversight. And, silly me, God is already there, waiting for me to catch up. Waiting to show me the fullness for which I was made.
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