I Shall Not Want
A fog. An description-less void. A pause. And I am left wondering how I got here, where I'm headed, and to what end the emptiness will bring.
At this very moment, I'm not fully saturated in this temperature-less room, but I've had a glimpse of it today, and it reminded me of the truth that needs to be quickly spoken over the lies and listlessness of this "place."
You reach out and want satisfaction; you reach toward something, and then it's gone. The light can't seem to penetrate the oxygen-less air around you, and you may even feel yourself becoming something that you are not--at the very least, getting "out of touch" with the person you know you are. Perhaps it's a moment of depression. Maybe it's a moment of deep sanctification as a worldly pleasure seems to be stripped away, and you are left trying to remember how to reach HIM again. And, of course, you may not know; that can be the very worst of all times.
I was sitting at the piano, willing myself to be content and satisfied in that moment. Nothing was happening, and I wondered if my will needed to be stronger. Maybe I just needed to set a higher resolve! Maybe I needed to do something.
I've been obsessed with a particular song lately by Audrey Assad: I Shall Not Want. With all fears and desires aside, I shall not want anything but Him...maybe that's enough. There may not be a resolve or will involved; perhaps it's simply telling yourself that you shall not want and choosing to believe that He is enough. When there isn't a feeling, we can know that truth remains. When there isn't a foreseeable light, we know that His nature can't cease to be light itself. When you feel like you're on "pause," you can trust that God has created the stillness and silences in this life, too.
"As a deer pants by streams of water, so my soul longs after you, oh Lord." Psalm 42:1
Just wanting Him to be the center, asking Him to dwell with you in the fog (and knowing that it could mean not feeling Him, even then), speaking the words of Psalm 42, and surrendering the feeling of nothingness could bridge the gap between inner turmoil and perfect peace.
The moments are painful--well, sometimes. Sometimes you don't even feel the blessedness of pain. But "we have this sure, steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as forerunner on our behalf...." Hebrews 6:19. Somehow, this has to be enough; somehow, this hope will be enough--always.
Be blessed in the void, for you shall not want.
At this very moment, I'm not fully saturated in this temperature-less room, but I've had a glimpse of it today, and it reminded me of the truth that needs to be quickly spoken over the lies and listlessness of this "place."
You reach out and want satisfaction; you reach toward something, and then it's gone. The light can't seem to penetrate the oxygen-less air around you, and you may even feel yourself becoming something that you are not--at the very least, getting "out of touch" with the person you know you are. Perhaps it's a moment of depression. Maybe it's a moment of deep sanctification as a worldly pleasure seems to be stripped away, and you are left trying to remember how to reach HIM again. And, of course, you may not know; that can be the very worst of all times.
I was sitting at the piano, willing myself to be content and satisfied in that moment. Nothing was happening, and I wondered if my will needed to be stronger. Maybe I just needed to set a higher resolve! Maybe I needed to do something.
I've been obsessed with a particular song lately by Audrey Assad: I Shall Not Want. With all fears and desires aside, I shall not want anything but Him...maybe that's enough. There may not be a resolve or will involved; perhaps it's simply telling yourself that you shall not want and choosing to believe that He is enough. When there isn't a feeling, we can know that truth remains. When there isn't a foreseeable light, we know that His nature can't cease to be light itself. When you feel like you're on "pause," you can trust that God has created the stillness and silences in this life, too.
"As a deer pants by streams of water, so my soul longs after you, oh Lord." Psalm 42:1
Just wanting Him to be the center, asking Him to dwell with you in the fog (and knowing that it could mean not feeling Him, even then), speaking the words of Psalm 42, and surrendering the feeling of nothingness could bridge the gap between inner turmoil and perfect peace.
The moments are painful--well, sometimes. Sometimes you don't even feel the blessedness of pain. But "we have this sure, steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as forerunner on our behalf...." Hebrews 6:19. Somehow, this has to be enough; somehow, this hope will be enough--always.
Be blessed in the void, for you shall not want.
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