May 29, 2018
Then Moses said, “Please let me see your glory!” The Lord answered: I will make all my goodness pass before you, and I will proclaim my name, “Lord,” before you.” ~Exodus 33:18 -23
This scripture passage came alive to me about 3 years ago on a silent retreat. As I entered this time of silence, I wanted so badly to experience the “fullness of God”. In a time of prayer during this retreat, Psalm 33 came to mind; “The earth is full of the goodness of God”. That moment began for me a new way of seeing. No longer do I just see, but I try to taste and feel and hear and smell (although for me my sense of smell is not keen) the goodness of God. I now practice awareness.
Our encounters with God are not chance, nor do they happen infrequently. They are not just for a few chosen, but for all of us. We have opportunities to encounter God’s presence every day. Sometimes these moments of intimacy happen when we’re in nature, with someone we love, with a stranger or in moments of struggle. They can come in times of great joy or a time of great pain and unknowing. Sometimes summer can loosen our rigid schedules and free us to enter a bit slower into life. I’d invite you to embrace this relinquishing and allow yourself to heighten your senses to the “fullness of God” all around us.
In Exodus 33:29 when Moses encountered God on Mount Sinai, it states “he did not know that the skin of his face had become radiant, while he spoke with the Lord”. While there may not be any outward sign for us, trust of the inward power of God’s love to transform.
In the intersection of frustration and flat out denial, we meet.
In the laughter and lively conversation between friends over coffee, we meet.
In the smells of freshly cut grass, an approaching rain and Grandma’s fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies, we meet.
In the faint light of morning, and the dim light of night, where the robin’s song signals the start of a new day the last song at night, we meet.
In the sometimes restless space of my heart, we meet.
In the exuberant hug of a grandchild, we meet.
On the holy ground, that produces the taste of vine-ripened, sun-warmed blueberries and strawberries, we meet.
In the chaos of addiction, which ends in shattered dreams and broken promises, we meet.
In the last breath of a dying parent, we meet.
In the pages of a good book or in the melody of music, we meet
In the unexplainable joy of holding once again, the daughter whom was birthed in and placed from my womb, to the arms of another woman to love and raise, we meet.
In the sterile environment of an exam room when a diagnosis of uncertainty is given, we meet.
When I walk with my hand clasped in the hand of the man I committed to love honor and cherish, we meet.
In the simplicity of my screened in porch, serenaded by the purr of my cat asleep on my lap, we meet.
In the inner turmoil and courage it takes to come out to your family and friends, facing the fear of ridicule and rejection, from a society that sometimes is unwilling to accept, we meet.
In the building called church
where strangers gather together to become
the Body of Christ,