the shade of His presence

Sometimes words can be vain.

I suppose that should come as no surprise. After all, one could have taken the warning in Ecclesiastes to heart.

One can get lost in the lines upon lines, and sometimes they can be less precepts and more often the groping of the soul. Sometimes those gropings blur—we all have those times—only sometimes missing the light switch is our own fault. We can make the groping our business more than simply finding the switch.

It’s all subtle, yes. Not sin, no, not always. But when the heart forgets that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, drift is inevitable.

It only takes a few instances of surfing instagram before opening the Word in the morning, or looking at Facebook last thing before bed till one begins to look forward more to distraction and diversion than to the concentrated focus of digesting the Living Word. Our hearts crave refreshment, but even the way we take our leisure reflects the attitude of our hearts.

I begin to face myself, my own heart and desires. Do I crave the screen or the sating of the deepest needs of my soul as a human? I think there is something to be said for learning to cultivate an ability to take refreshment in things others might consider work—reading writing, hospitality—even things commanded, such as sitting in the Lord’s house. After all, what was it Jesus said? Something about the Sabbath being created for man. As if our Father God is not also our Creator and does not know the needs of our souls. The more we dedicate ourselves to a disciplined pursuit of God, the more we realize that we are created expressly for fellowship with the eternal God, and that all the leisurely pursuits along the way are meant to point to the greatest and deepest joys of knowing and glorifying Christ.

Not to ban the beach fire, or regulate the cookie-making, but small instances of pleasure cannot come anywhere close to meeting our deepest needs for nourishment, and we should never underestimate the danger of allowing “taking a break” to eclipse, even unintentionally, a breathless, wholehearted pursuit of God.

I have often found in my own life that ceasing the rigorous activity of abandonment is a dangerous thing for my spiritual state. I don’t imagine this ought to, or even can look the same for everyone, but I am becoming more and more convinced that each believer has areas of sacrifice in their lives required of them if they are to stay in “fighting condition”.

Paul already said we wrestle against more than flesh and blood, and I don’t imagine that means our flesh and our blood then become insignificant in this battle. No—every time I catch myself thinking that, I’ve usually made several choices already to undermine my own personal holiness.

I believe He bring us to different places at different times, but if we are not sitting before Him expectantly—daily—asking what He would have of us, and surrendering all the little, insignificant things we would just rather keep—all the things certainly, that are downright sin, but even all the good things that are not the best and must sometimes be given up to cultivate the best things—if I am not daily offering up these pieces of my life,  I am soon found unfaithful with the goods I have been given.

In the absence of offering, of sacrifice, of denial, my heart grows proud. It grows selfish. It grows jealous. No amount of sleep or laughter or leisure or food or wasted concentration is worth the separation of me from my Lord.

Yes, like any good Calvinist, I know that the everlasting arms hold me, that my heart will not wander into eternal lostness. I am firmly assured of my salvation.

Yet I ask the question of my heart, and I ask it of you—how, once having glimpsed the severity of loss, agony, and separation endured by my Lord for me—how can I not be abandoned to the wholehearted love of that Saviour?

He thirsted that I might never thirst again. How then could I wander from that well for the sake of my own imagined comfort?

When my Father promises to be a shade to me in the heat of the day, I need only take care that I am near His right hand where that shade is sure to fall.