A Repost: Unraveled, Undone, In His Presence

 The meditation below was written originally almost 20 years ago. The sentiment and the experience are still the same, but the circumstances have changed a bit.

You see, I am now in my 60s and realizing my own mortality. I am firmly on the downward side of my quest to live for 100 years. The very thought that I have lived more than 6 decades has given me pause. For some of my readers 60 seems pretty old, perhaps for others it seems a bit young. All I know is that it has caused me to pause and to reflect on my life.

I am a words of affirmation kind of person, and as such I love to give encouragement to others (and to receive it too!). On the other hand, there are those times where I feel incredibly unnoticed and irrelevant and even melancholy in some ways. Today has (kind of) been one of those days. I feel like my day has started with me already running behind in lots of things. I had a hard time finding a parking space, and then I didn't have as much time to prepare for classes as usual. Things just seemed rushed or incomplete in some way. So, as I contemplated my situation, the post below kind of summed up my mood. I thought I'd post it for that reason (and maybe it will encourage some of you).

As you stand before God undone today, as you unravel in his presence, cling tightly to the promise that he has given--"I will never leave you nor forsake you." Stand or sit before Jesus and just let your life pause before him for a moment. Join me and come undone. Let's unravel in his presence. I hope you enjoy this little meditation from 2008:

Today as I drove to work, I couldn't help a bit of melancholy.

The weather was wet, traffic was light, the music was breezy, the mountains were august, the sun brilliant, . . . and I was melancholy.

As I drove I began to think of Abraham, Moses, and Isaiah for some reason. Each of these individuals had an amazing encounter with God. Abraham (while still "Abram") encountered the God of covenants. During a dream at night terrors seized Abram as he saw the torch of God move between the divided carcasses of the animal sacrifices. Abram was undone.

Moses encountered God first as an enigma. Moses saw a bush that was on fire and yet not burning. He went closer, he heard God, he took off his shoes. He was undone, his life would never be the same.

Isaiah lost a friend and a hero. When King Uzziah died, Isaiah wept and went into deep mourning. During his depression, Isaiah had a vision. Angels flew about, the holiness and awesomeness of God shook the foundation and pillars of the Temple. 

God spoke, Isaiah trembled.

When Isaiah dared to speak in this holy company, the words out of his mouth were "Woe is me, I am undone!"

As I understand it, the Hebrew here has the meaning of being unzipped from the belly to the neck so that your insides spill out.

Okay, maybe I'm stretching it a bit, but it was not a happy thought for Isaiah. He felt unraveled in the presence of God.

That kind of describes my melancholy today . . . I feel unraveled. Like a ball of yarn that has lost its consistency, I am loose and dangly.

Like a sweater pulled apart thread-by-thread, I am undone.

I look at the majesty around me, the beauty and holiness and awe-fulness of it all, and I find myself undone.

It is not a bad feeling necessarily, but it can be a bit unnerving.

I feel unraveled.

Like a joke with no punch line, or a sitcom with no laugh track, or a book with no thesis or direction, or a story with no meaning . . .

I feel undone.

How do I explain what is happening in my heart when words seem hard to find?

Life is good, things seem to be fine, but I feel . . . well, what?

I think that this is a normal human emotion, and it is one I've encountered before. I'm not depressed; in fact, I'm not really sad at all! I'm actually smiling as I type these words!

I sit here in the midst of an amazing band of people, activities, and stuff, and I feel a bit unraveled.

Maybe I'm just relaxing . . . loosening things a bit in preparation for the next battle or the next activity or the next thing.

Maybe it is a "Selah," a sort of pause of spirit that causes me to reflect a bit.

It is a good thing, I think, to be unraveled before God and his wonderful creation.

So, like Paul, I will relish in my unraveling, in my undoing, in my weakness . . . for when I am weak, God is strong. When I am undone, God still does. When I am unraveled, Jesus holds all things together.

I smile, I sigh. I listen to U2 and Larry Norman and Bob Dylan.

I will go find some Jonny Lang or Switchfoot. I will relish in the tones, in the thoughts, in the music. I will unravel before God and just be. I will let myself be undone so that he can renew me.

What a wonderful life!

Thanks for reading! 

Undone . . . Pulled Apart . . . A time for rest

The meditation below was written originally several years ago. The sentiment and the experience are still the same, but the circumstances have changed a bit.

You see, I am getting closer to celebrating my 60th birthday. I am firmly on the downward side of my quest to live for 100 years. The very thought that I have lived 6 decades has given me pause. For some of my readers 60 seems pretty old, perhaps for others it seems a bit young. All I know is that it has caused me to pause and to reflect on my life.

I am a words of affirmation kind of person, and as such I love to give encouragement to others (and to receive it too!). On the other hand, there are those times where I feel incredibly unnoticed and irrelevant and even melancholy in some ways. Today is one of those days. I noticed my frustration level was a bit higher than usual (not sure why). I feel like my day has started with me already running behind in lots of things. I mean, my day (it is only 10:20!) already seems a bit undone. So, this morning as I contemplated my situation, the post below kind of summed up my mood. I thought I'd repost it for that reason (and maybe it will encourage some of you).

As you stand before God undone today, as you unravel in his presence, cling tightly to the promise that he has given--"I will never leave you nor forsake you." Stand or sit before Jesus and just let your life pause before him for a moment. Join me and come undone. Let's unravel in his presence. I hope you enjoy this little meditation from 2008.

Today as I drove to work, I couldn't help a bit of melancholy.

The weather was cool, traffic was light, the music was breezy, the mountains were august, the sun brilliant, . . .

and I was melancholy.

As I drove I began to think of Abraham, Moses, and Isaiah for some reason. Each of these individuals had an amazing encounter with God. Abraham (while still "Abram") encountered the God of covenants. During a dream at night terrors seized Abram as he saw the torch of God move between the divided carcasses of the animal sacrifices. Abram was undone.

Moses encountered God first as an enigma. Moses saw a bush that was on fire and yet not burning. He went closer, he heard God, he took off his shoes. He was undone, his life would never be the same.

Isaiah lost a friend and a hero. When King Uzziah died, Isaiah wept and went into deep mourning. During his depression, Isaiah had a vision. Angels flew about, the holiness and awesomeness of God shook the foundation and pillars of the Temple.

God spoke, Isaiah trembled.

When Isaiah dared to speak in this holy company, the words out of his mouth were "Woe is me, I am undone!"

As I understand it, the Hebrew here has the meaning of being unzipped from the belly to the neck so that your insides spill out.

Okay, maybe I'm stretching it a bit, but it was not a happy thought for Isaiah. He felt unraveled in the presence of God.

That kind of describes my melancholy today . . . I feel unraveled. Like a ball of yarn that has lost its consistency, I am loose and dangly.

Like a sweater pulled apart thread-by-thread, I am undone.

I look at the majesty around me, the beauty and holiness and awe-fulness of it all, and I find myself undone.

It is not a bad feeling necessarily, but it is a bit unnerving.

I feel unraveled.

Like a joke with no punch line, or a sitcom with no laugh track, or a book with no thesis or direction, or a story with no meaning . . .

I feel undone.

How do I explain what is happening in my heart when words seem hard to find?

Life is good, things seem to be fine, but I feel . . . well, what?

I think that this is a normal human emotion, and it is one I've encountered before. I'm not depressed; in fact, I'm not really sad at all! I'm actually smiling as I type these words!

I sit here in the midst of an august band of people, activities, and stuff, and I feel a bit unraveled.

Maybe I'm just relaxing . . . loosening things a bit in preparation for the next battle or the next activity or the next thing.

Maybe it is a "Selah," a sort of pause of spirit that causes me to reflect a bit.

It is a good thing, I think, to be unraveled before God and his wonderful creation.

So, like Paul, I will relish in my unraveling, in my undoing, in my weakness . . . for when I am weak, God is strong. When I am undone, God still does. When I am unraveled, Jesus holds all things together.

I smile, I sigh. I listen to U2 and Larry Norman and Bob Dylan.

I will go find some Jonny Lang or Switchfoot. I will relish in the tones, in the thoughts, in the music. I will unravel before God and just be. I will let myself be undone so that he can renew me.

What a wonderful life!

Thanks for reading!

Sounds of Silence--A Repeat

Nine years ago I was in the middle of trying to write and to establish a new program of study at Liberty University, and I found myself a bit overwhelmed.  You might even say that I was drowning in busy-ness and work.  Today I often find myself right back in that same ocean . . . swamped by a sense of "things to do" and "work, work work".

I think we all have been there.  The waves of life crash around us, and we sense we are sinking in the foam of life and finding ourselves stuck in the mire of everyday expectations.  The thunder and bluster of life's storms cause fear, and we lose focus on what really matters.  We succumb to the slumber brought about by drowning in activities--e-mail to answer, calls to be made, classes to prepare, friends to meet, people to impress, notes/articles to write, family expectations or obligations, to do lists full of things that just HAVE to be done today, etc.  The raging waves lull us to sleep as we are rocked steadily into a coma of concern.  The cacophony of our activities becomes the lullaby to our souls, and we yield to the siren's call, surrendering to what we think is really important.  We forget that we sometimes need a pause, a moment of Selah, a time to come apart before we fall apart.

In the middle of such a situation nine years ago, I wrote the following words.  They spoke to me then, and they convict me now.  How often I forget to sit silently in the presence of the Father who genuinely cares!  I come into his presence with my own agenda, dropping my "to do" lists in his lap as though they were a heavenly call that cannot be avoided.  Anyway, today I want to remind myself to sit with God, to just be silent in his awesome and awful presence with no agenda except to be with him.  I need some "quiet time", how about you?

Silence, cold eerie silence.

In this post-modern day and age, we rarely find ourselves in a place that is so utterly silent as to be practically without sound. We are surrounded by noise—the chattering of talk radio, the booming of the latest music craze, even in the shopping centers and elevators of life we encounter the ever-present reminder of Muzak to keep us company. At work we are assaulted with myriads of sounds, from the boss handing out assignments to the response of the assistant or the ringing of the phone. Even the internet is now wired for sound so that you can search for the latest piece of news or information with surround sound convenience. We return home from work only to turn on our cable TV to act as a kind of “white noise” in the background of our family lives. Some of us even go to sleep with the latest tunes playing on the radio to soothe our tired souls and “give us rest.” Today a human can actually go from womb to grave completely surrounded by the music of their own chosen personal soundtrack. Surely we are rarely without noise in our lives!

In this post-modern life we seem to have grown afraid of silence. We avoid it. We try to fill it with something that will give “meaning” to the emptiness. Why do we do that? Why do we fill our lives with sound?

Could it be that we are afraid of what we may actually hear if we are silent?

Could we be afraid that we may hear nothing? That we may be drowning in silence?

I believe we have grown accustomed to sound as a substitute for genuine communication with the transcendent. We have blocked out the very voice of the cosmos with our sound track so that we do not have to give our souls pause and just listen.

When was the last time you listened, really listened, to nature around you? I heard a mockingbird this morning, the bark of my dog, the jingling of my cat’s tags as he walked up the walk. It was so quiet I swear I could hear the sun groaning as it rose from its sleep!

I sat there, in silence. I listened. After a few seconds I grew jittery, even panicky. I really should be doing something, listening to something, “accomplishing” something worthwhile with my time.

I heard a voice, quiet and still—“Hush, be quiet. Be still and know . . . .” I listened, and in that silence I found a reverence for life that I hope only grows throughout the day. The quiet voice didn’t offer any startling revelations, but my basking in silence lent a kind of sacred feel to my morning. God was there. We had coffee. We sat quietly like two old friends for whom words would be a waste of effort. We silently toasted the beginning of a new day, and I felt as though the Almighty smiled at me. That stillness of that moment had created an almost “holy” space for the two of us to share. I know he was there. I long for a few more quiet moments with my Father and Friend.

Shhh . . .

Listen. . .

Was that the whisper of his voice?

Thanks for reading!  

Unraveled . . . Additions and a Repeat

The meditation below was written originally almost 2.5 years ago. The sentiment and the experience are still the same, but the circumstances have changed a bit.

You see, I recently celebrated my 51st birthday. I am now on the downward side of my quest for 100 years. The very thought that I have lived over 5 decades has given me pause. For some of my readers 50 seems really old, perhaps for others it seems a bit young. All I know is that it has caused me to pause and to reflect on my life.

I am a words of affirmation kind of person, and as such I love to give encouragement to others (and to receive it too!). On the other hand, there are those times where I feel incredibly unnoticed and irrelevant and even melancholy in s some ways. Today is one of those days. I noticed my frustration level was a bit higher than usual (not sure why). I feel like my day has started with me already running behind in lots of things. I mean, my day (it is only 10:20!) already seems undone. So, this morning as I contemplated my situation, the post below kind of summed up my mood. I thought I'd repost it for that reason (and maybe it will encourage some of you).

As you stand before God undone today, as you unravel in his presence, cling tightly to the promise that he has given--"I will never leave you nor forsake you." Stand or sit before Jesus and just let your life pause before him for a moment. Join me and come undone. Let's unravel in his presence. I hope you enjoy this little meditation from 2008.

Today as I drove to work, I couldn't help a bit of melancholy.

The weather was cool, traffic was light, John Denver was breezy (yes, John Denver!), the mountains were august, the sun brilliant, . . .

and I was melancholy.

As I drove I began to think of Abraham, Moses, and Isaiah for some reason. Each of these individuals had an amazing encounter with God. Abraham (while still "Abram") encountered the God of covenants. During a dream at night terrors seized Abram as he saw the torch of God move between the divided carcasses of the animal sacrifices. Abram was undone.

Moses encountered God first as an enigma. Moses saw a bush that was on fire and yet not burning. He went closer, he heard God, he took off his shoes. He was undone, his life would never be the same.

Isaiah lost a friend and a hero. When King Uzziah died, Isaiah wept and went into deep mourning. During his depression, Isaiah had a vision. Angels flew about, the holiness and awesomeness of God shook the foundation and pillars of the Temple.

God spoke, Isaiah trembled.

When Isaiah dared to speak in this holy company, the words out of his mouth were "Woe is me, I am undone!"

As I understand it, the Hebrew here has the meaning of being unzipped from the belly to the neck so that your insides spill out.

Okay, maybe I'm stretching it a bit, but it was not a happy thought for Isaiah. He felt unraveled in the presence of God.

That kind of describes my melancholy today . . . I feel unraveled. Like a ball of yarn that has lost its consistency, I am loose and dangly.

Like a sweater pulled apart thread-by-thread, I am undone.

I look at the majesty around me, the beauty and holiness and awe-fulness of it all, and I find myself undone.

It is not a bad feeling necessarily, but it is a bit unnerving.

I feel unraveled.

Like a joke with no punch line, or a sitcom with no laugh track, or a book with no thesis or direction, or a story with no meaning . . .

I feel undone.

How do I explain what is happening in my heart when words seem hard to find?

Life is good, things are fine, but I feel . . . well, what?

I think that this is a normal human emotion, and it is one I've encountered before. I'm not depressed; in fact, I'm not really sad at all! I'm actually smiling as I type these words!

I sit here in the midst of an august band of people, activities, and stuff, and I feel a bit unraveled.

Maybe I'm just relaxing . . . loosening things a bit in preparation for the next battle or the next activity or the next thing.

Maybe it is a "Selah," a sort of pause of spirit that causes me to reflect a bit.

It is a good thing, I think, to be unraveled before God and his wonderful creation.

So, like Paul, I will relish in my unraveling, in my undoing, in my weakness . . . for when I am weak, God is strong. When I am undone, God still does. When I am unraveled, Jesus holds all things together.

I smile, I sigh. I listen to U2 and Larry Norman and Bob Dylan (John Denver was making me too melancholy, I think).

I will go find some Jonny Lang. I will relish in the tones, in the thoughts, in the music. I will unravel before God and just be. I will let myself be undone so that he can renew me.

What a wonderful life!

Thanks for reading!