Tuesday, November 13, 2012

November 13th

For some time now I've been living in the truth that God is in me and I am in Him, and that this needs no proof, no constant assertion, no seeking. It simply is, in each moment.

I've been doing this in part to prevent myself from making a personal religion of my perceptions or experiences of God. It would have been easy to do. It would have been easy for me to constantly seek what I already possessed.

I also did this in part because I saw how I was dividing myself into holy and unholy parts. I was doing this to every aspect of myself- thoughts, emotions, aspirations, my physical body.

Whatever I judged holy, I assigned to or from God. Whatever I judged unholy, I rejected. I was trying to actively participate in the bleaching process that I so closely associated with intimacy with God.

Frequently, I would become so busy sifting myself that I had no time or ability to simply be with God. It was ultimately a futile, endless pursuit, one that filled with me shame and frustration.

When I realized these things, I made a deliberate choice to suspend this type of self imposed division. I simply gave myself over in my entirety to Him, so that He could divide as He wished, in His own way and in His own time.

At the same time, I stopped seeking the experience of Him and simply rested in the truth of Him. It was as if I let go of my expectations, both of myself and of Him. I let myself be still.

In the early summer, when I was first making this transition of thought, I would sometimes become anxious that I was no longer actively seeking God. Like a child that is just learning to walk, I would take a few steps and then reach out for Him, for reassurance.

Each time, I heard Him tenderly say, You know that I Am.

He said this to me so often that it became like a stream of living water constantly running through the deep places of my spirit. I could hear the music of this water, this living connection that runs through my spirit and God's Spirit, which is, in some profound and mysterious way, one spirit.

And I do know. I know that He always is. This is a peaceful and whole way of living, and I am getting better at living in it.

Still I find myself reaching out to Him, sometimes out of anxiety and sometimes out of love.

Out of love, I lie still in the bed at night and listen to my own breath. I remember that it is the breath of God.

When I breathe in, I take my breath from His mouth. When I breathe out, I return it to Him. The intimacy and trust of this causes my spirit to become warm and fluid. I know myself to be warmly cocooned in the living heart of God, face to face with Him.

He taught me this Himself, but for a long time, I was too shy or too full of shame to surrender myself to it. Now I can initiate it.

"Should I ask You for something?" I sometimes ask Him. "Should I be asking You, over and over again, for the house to be rented or that we be matched with the right birth mother?"

But then I wonder why would I ask Him for things I already know He's intimately involved with.

I no longer associate God primarily with the result. I understand Him to be almost inextricably involved in the process. He is my entire life, moment by moment.

Besides, maybe going through a disrupted adoption plan is a necessary pruning or threshing. In that case, why should I ask to avoid it?

Every once in a while, I do find myself asking Him for something specific.

"Aha!" I tell Him, humorously. "I have made a request of You! I do still do that, after all."

I no longer pause to get myself ready to meet with Him, as though there were some sort of power room where I could go to touch up my face before the official exchange. There isn't any sort of doorway between Him and I, although I sometimes forget this.

I remember getting caught up in this sort of fruitless pursuit one night. I was trying to get myself in the right and holy frame of mind, before resting in Him. As usual, this was frustrating. It's like going around in circles.

Then I remembered with incredible relief that getting myself in the right frame of mind- trying to earn Him, was not the way to Him. I let myself fall back into His presence, just as I was.

"I almost got lost on the way," I confessed.

I knew where you were, He said tenderly.

He would; He is the way.

I know that I am His. I don't have to call Him by name, as though I needed to catch His attention, or out of fear that my adoration or communication might go astray if I didn't have it clearly postmarked.

Sometimes I do call Him by name, and the intimacy of it send shivers through my spirit. It is like touching His face.

There's pleasure in both pursuits, the seeking of God and the resting in God.

It makes me think of something He said, something that I have wondered about, from time to time:

"I am the door. If anyone enters by Me, he will be saved, and will go in and out and find pasture."
-John 10:9

I always wondered, in and out of where?

I wonder if we are sometimes turning inward to Him, and resting in the truth that He is in us. And maybe sometimes we are going out and seeking Him, with all the deep yearning for Him, and the pleasure of knowing He will be found.

Either way, we have entered; we are safe. We have a resting place. In this lovely setting, we have the give and take of intimate relationship, which is so very nourishing.