Lectio
“You never enjoy the world aright, till the Sea itself floweth in your veins, till you are clothed with the heavens, and crowned with the stars.”
— Thomas Traherne, Centuries of Meditations, First Century, §29
Meditatio
I laid my head down last night on an unfamiliar pillow, upon a bed that is not my own, in a house that is far away from my home. Hundreds of miles away from the routines and responsibilities of my daily life, and yet I have brought my concerns and worries with me, so they feel as real and as near as ever. The distance makes me feel helpless, powerless to affect the very things that I seem to have carried with me on my trip. This helplessness, the very powerlessness that I fear, it occurs to me, is, itself, the lesson.
As I settle into this foreign place, a cabin in the woods in west-central North Carolina, I am forced to make a decision. I can either cling to that which I cannot control and feel myself torn apart, my body in one place and my mind in another, or I can let go and settle into the presence of God in this moment, in this place, and in my very helplessness to affect that which is outside of my direct control.
And then I hear a bird’s song. And then another, and another. Until, this symphony of songs, each distinct from the other in pitch, rhythm, and timbre, and yet somehow in perfect harmony in a way that is incomprehensible and unexplainable, overtakes me, drawing my attention to the Presence within the present in which I lie.
And in the birds’ collective song, a symphony of divine revelation, I hear the Word, I hear Christ proclaim: “Do not worry about your life… Today’s trouble is enough for today.” (Matthew 6:25, 34)
And today, in this moment, aside from an aching hip, the result of an old injury, exacerbated by the long drive, I have no troubles. I am in a cabin in the woods with my family in the presence of the God whose love flows through our lives like the creek in the distance and whose Word sings in our hearts like the birds who surround us. And every time my consciousness drifts away from this fact, the sound of the birds brings me back to the Presence that is ever present, reminding me that in the presence of perfect love, there is no room for worry or fear. (1 John 4:18)
Oratio
all of this
your Word
your Love
your Presence
all of this
your Gift
your Grace
your Mercy
your Abundance
all of this
that I look past
consumed by fear
by fret
by worry
all of this
to grab my attention
to prove your intention
to give consolation
if only I consent
to be present
to your Presence
Contemplatio
When have you found yourself drawn back into the present moment by nature — and what did that interruption ask of you?
Related Scripture
“But ask the animals, and they will teach you; the birds of the air, and they will tell you; ask the plants of the earth, and they will teach you; and the fish of the sea will declare to you.” (Job 12:7-8)
For Further Reading
If you enjoyed this post, you may also like Nothing Is Wasted: God’s Purpose in Every Moment , which reflects on how God uses the very moments we resist — including our helplessness and fear — to draw us more deeply into union with him.
Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity.
Wrestling With God.
Returning To Love.
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