Enjoying God

Dear God,

I’m learning how vital it is for me to simply enjoy you. To enjoy your being, your presence, the very life that you breathe into me. It’s a wonder to me how there is always more available; there are no limits to your love. It’s so free. It’s the most generous of gifts, seeping into every aspect of my life like a perfume whispers into clothes, winds its way into a scarf and lingers in a room.

I often make it complicated but it is really quite simple. It’s out of your love that everything else flows. I don’t have to strive because your presence makes possible what my humanity won’t allow. I cannot earn what you’ve already given. So, in this knowledge, I am utterly free to enjoy your no-strings-attached affection. The only thing I have to strive for is to enter your rest; one of the many beautiful paradoxes of your upside-down Kingdom.

You prove yourself faithful when I come with expectations, big and small. No problem is too great for you and no detail is too minute. I love the encouragement of seeing prayers answered; from the highly specific to the things I asked half-heartedly, often mumbled before falling asleep. But I like just as much that when I don’t know how to articulate the scribble of thoughts in my head, you are there in the confusion. At times, instead of coming to you boldly, I come crawling. At times, I’m a mess of tears, for a million reasons. But you never censure.

There are moments when I am lost for words. I come to you with hurt and no explanation is needed, because you know deep hurt. I can come to you with profound thankfulness, and you fill me with intense joy. It’s so funny that worship is the single most joyful experience I can think of.

I love how you can be found everywhere. You leave your signature in the fragrance of the lilacs carried on the Spring breeze; in the sound of a baby’s laugh or the chirp of a blackbird at 5am when I wake up momentarily, groggy and confused. I see you in the grinning faces of the people who welcome me to church every Sunday.

Being in your presence does not mean that problems disappear, or that hurts heal immediately. But as I turn my affection towards you, they are put into perspective. I am equipped to withstand what my sensitive soul couldn’t otherwise bear; my strength is found in you alone, and that has proved to be enough. During this year I have never felt so stretched; drawn tight in ways that are not easily explained. But through it, I’ve found that you are, indeed, more than enough.

There is so much I could say, but this is what I love the most: When I kneel before you, I can come to you empty, but I go away full.