Whispers

I have, of late, pondered much and written little. There has not been time: or, more properly, there has not been time made. It is late, as I write - pleasantly so. Sometimes thoughts that have idly wandered in the mind crystallize in the night, in the darkness and the silence and the solitude. Sometimes prayer is most fruitful in the still watches of the passing seconds between the twilights. So also it is with meditation on the very Word of God: and on the Word revealed in flesh, communicated therein.

Silence is a discipline we perhaps do not practice enough. The same is, sadly, true of solitude. We have forgotten how to be alone, to be still, to rest in the quiet and to simply draw near to God. The West knows not how to be still and know that He is God. And lancing at the context of that verse, I am struck by this thought: perhaps it is because we do not see the power of His arm, or comprehend the reach of His grasp. If we truly understood, we would be still, for we would then know that we are secure in Him: that all the affairs that so trouble our hearts, that drive us not to be still, not to be comfortable alone with Him are all His, are all in His hands, are all already known by Him - are all being divinely crafted for His glory and our good.

And perhaps some of it is from fear. If we are quiet and still in the silence far from the noise of our lives: that static, that crashing white blur that we ignore yet never escape... if we dare to be alone, absent our technological regalia and incessant chattering of acquaintances (and yes, even friends)... Then we might find ourselves confronted by the Incomparable One, find ourselves face to face with His reality, His immensity, His holiness... His glory: the very fullness of His being.

And what then? For if we find ourselves confronted by that, we will no longer be able to function as we have in the world around us! We will no longer be able to live as unchanged men and women, comfortable in this existence. How could we be comfortable in that which is broken, unhinged in every sense, a pale reflection of what ought to be, what was, what will be? No, our hearts would yearn, truly and deeply for a city that has foundations: and even more, for the One who designed and built that city. We could not rest in a land where we are but sojourners, foreigners present for a time but certainly not staying: for our greater country awaits us, and our King there reigning supreme.

And if that is what awaits us in the solitude and the silence, it is easy to see why it terrifies us: that will shake us to our core, alter everything of how we live, leave us with a missional outlook and a life that must be surrendered, not held tightly in the grip of absolute autonomy. These are indeed frightening prospects for a human soul still wrapped in the grip of sin.

We forget, sometimes, in the pursuit of holiness, that it is indeed a pursuit: not a moment of achieving, not a single instant in which we have overcome and arrived, but a lifetime, a journey, a great traverse across the wilderness. But it is the wilderness which hones us, which sharpens us, which makes us as we ought to be... transparent, a perfect reflection, yet unique and distinct in the manner of that reflection.

So we should delight in the journey, and recognize that though we shall one day be perfected, we are not yet arrived at that moment. There is, as has been sung, a joy in the journey, a light we can love on the way. Yet sometimes, I think, we struggle, wrestling with our purpose, our plans, our future: seeking to understand, as another man asked in song, what precisely is our place in this world?

And the answer is so simple to say, so difficult to understand, so impossible of ourselves to accomplish. We live to glorify God: to make Him known to all the nations, to share His love and His delight with all - with people of every tribe, tongue, and nation - and to delight in Him above all else: by delighting in Him in whatever we do.

So I sit awake at 2:34 am. I think. I pray. I meditate. And sometimes I write, pouring out my heart and my thoughts. And I meditate on His word, on the sufficiency of His sacrifice and His perfect priesthood. I look at His nature, His glory, His character, His perfect intercession... and I am still. If I speak, it is in a whisper, awed and reverent: for who am I that I may enter His throne: and with confidence? And yet I know the answer: I am His child by right, righteous by the blood shed for me.

And I encourage you as well, to sit awake in the dark watches of the night, to keep tryst with God Almighty, the Holy One: a perfect Father, the first among many Brothers, a perfect Comforter. Rest in silence, be at peace, let your heart go still, and come to know the One who is.

- Chris