A Slow Drift

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There are seasons of time when I especially want to be in the presence of the Lord. I am in one of them right now. 

I want to soak up his goodness and receive all the kindness and love he has given me.

But this wasn’t always the case.

I wasn’t always as close to the Lord as I am now.

I once let other desires and affections rule in my heart. I loved the things of the world more than the things of the Lord (in practice, though not in underlying dedication).

This bore itself out in my quiet times, which were essentially nonexistent. I would rarely open my heart to the Lord or go to him for comfort. Because of my distance, I thought of him primarily as a Judge. My sin tainted my view of him because I knew the judgment I deserved.

What made this time in my life worse was that I often pretended to be okay. I pretended to be close to the Lord because, well, all my life, I had imagined myself close to the Lord. But this time of life was different. My soul was dry, and I was feeding off things that were not my Lord.

I confess these things to you because I imagine we are all susceptible to these seasons of drift. I hope that you don’t experience one. But I know I didn’t expect it; I hardly noticed it and didn’t see it coming beforehand.

And that, my friends, is frightening.

It is frightening to think we can have our hearts pulled away from the Lord while assuming ourselves close to the Lord. It is alarming that this kind of self-deception exists. The Lord wants our hearts.

Thankfully, the Lord woke me up. I distinctly remember praying and hiding my sin from the Lord—and feeling his disapproval. He wanted me to always acknowledge my sin before him. That was step one.

The Lord has always been precious to me. I didn’t want to admit I had wronged him, and I still don’t. But to be honest and authentic with the Lord, we must sometimes do what we don’t want. We must accept responsibility for our sins before him.

As I have said, that is step one.

The next step for me was to receive his grace immediately. He was quick in giving it to me. He was not reticent to demonstrate his forgiveness. They came immediately. They came before I fully accepted my responsibility for my sin. Even before I could fully admit that I had indeed drifted from the Lord, he reassured me that he would not leave me. Once I confessed my responsibility, he accepted me—it is as though he congratulated me on doing the one thing pleasing to him that I had been so reluctant to do.

He congratulates me on a job well done when I admit my responsibility for my own sin. Think of this—this is the Lord! He is always gracious and close to the humble. I do not call myself humble, but acknowledging my own sin is a humble act that I needed help to achieve. This is the very act that ushered me closer to the Lord.

After that, it was also all grace. He ushered me into his presence to bless me. He dazzled me with his kind treatment, love for me, acceptance of me, and sheer character and existence. As an admitted sinner, I fell for him—like never before, forgiven and welcomed near.

And now, it is as though his greatness in my heart has crowded out those desires of the world. My loves are much more rightly ordered. My love for him is assuredly supreme. My heart requires work—hard work. It did not come to me correctly aligned. It has been a work of God to help me understand what it means to love him first and with all of me. I, of course, am not perfect in this. But I have experienced what the love of God does in the heart by expelling sin.

This only happened in stages, was gradual, and was a work. His love is still ordering me, but I am not drifting now.

The kindness of the Lord is so lovely to me. His riches of mercy that are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23) on this earthly journey are like a cloak or covering over me, sheltering me from the world. Every morning, I need to know that my story with him continues—that he will still do this ordering work within me. And he does. I used to dread the Lord in a way; I was afraid in an unhealthy manner because I had not fully encountered his kindness. I needed to lay myself before him and have faith that he rewards those who humbly seek him (Hebrews 11:6).

Communicating with the Lord

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When I communicate with the Lord, I have been brought to a place of friendship.

Perhaps that feels wrong to you. Maybe you feel like, if you fear the Lord as you ought, you should approach him only in reverence.

I understand. I used to write prayers full of carefully crafted words. I would polish my sentences, check for theological precision, and form what I hoped had some eloquence for the Lord.

But I wasn’t bringing him my heart.

Now, my prayers are much more feelings-oriented. I tell him how I am doing and bring him my feelings. I confess feelings I wish I didn’t have, which I know aren’t right, good, beautiful, true, or pure.

In this way, I speak to him as a friend.

This is part of what Hebrews 4:16 means when it says we should confidently approach the throne. I think of how Moses spoke to the Lord as a friend (Exodus 33:11). Now, marvel of marvels, we are all invited to do so through Christ (John 15:15).

We can come near, as we are. And, he takes this lump of clay and molds me. I love the feeling of being shaped by his hands. I love the sense of his mercy and grace pouring over my sin to heal it and set me in the right direction.

I think of this verse in Psalms: “Instead, his delight is in the LORD’s instruction, and he meditates on it day and night” (Psalm 1:2 CSV).

The instruction of the Lord has become my delight. It sounds counter-intuitive, in a way. How is instruction my delight? Is that not relegated to the area of rote duty? How is instruction a pure joy? It comes down to two realities, at least. First, it feels right to be righted. When we learn righteousness, it feels like we are becoming more like the selves we were created to be. We are growing up in righteousness rather than being denigrated by sin. Our joints are being put back into place. And second, it brings pleasure to God when we are righted. And that is the goal and aim of our lives.

When I pray to God now, I long for righteousness and companionship.

When polishing my words for him, I missed relating with him. I missed the fact that I was communicating with Someone. It was more soliloquy than dialog. But now, I understand what the psalmist is ever doing. The psalmist brings “complaints” to the Lord to be heard by a Person: “The righteous cry out, and the LORD hears” (Psalm 34:17a).

The psalmist responds to being heard by having faith and affirming trust in the Lord, which perhaps wasn’t there in the psalmist’s heart before the conversation started. Prayer creates faith, I believe.

It is a friend who wants to hear of the heart's inner workings. It is a friend with whom you can be yourself. It is a friend who will listen to your concerns. It is a deep and dear friend who will help right what has been wronged in you. It is a kind friend who will comfort you.

And, all the while, this friend is God, who beckons trust from our inward parts.

My prayer practice has completely changed over the past several years; because of it, I am different.

  1. I am not left to deal with my feelings myself. Prayer invites total honesty that works with me and works on me. I am heard and righted.

  2. When I don’t see through situations to resolution, prayer reminds me of the work God does on my behalf to make a way before me. I am less anxious—and less apt to make poor decisions based on my limited knowledge.

  3. Prayer is the practice that means I am kept company by the Lord. I am in the presence of a God who wants to hear from me. I learned to bring my concerns to God as a child, but as an adult, I forgot it. Now, I know that God wants to hear even the details that seem insignificant. I am listened to in full.

I want to know the Lord more and have gotten to know him more once I prepared for an actual exchange, an encounter, an honest dialog. Prayer is not so complicated. But the Lord likes us to go with a bit of faith: faith that he wants to hear from us and will meet with us.