This Place of Unknowing

Oh God, how I love to be in your presence. You fill me with peace when I turn all my attention on you. Your comforting Spirit takes away my burdens and reminds me that all is not lost.

The Bible says your eyes roam to and fro throughout the earth, looking to support those who are completely committed to you. You’ve been anticipating my attention as much as I have been anticipating yours. I picture you, Abba, turning your loving gaze on me, radiating a warmth in me that cannot come from this world. As I attempt to be more aware of your presence throughout the day, I feel like I am learning how to recognize you all over again.

I want to get to know you the way a baby learns about his mother while gazing at her face; while touching her cheekbone, lips, chin, and neck. There is a beautiful intimacy found in the pure, nurturing interaction between parent and child.

When I come to you in complete silence and stillness, I don’t know what I’m looking at. It’s as if I’m a newborn baby experiencing something I’ve never seen before. I’m reaching out with my spirit and my heart to touch you, to make sense of you, to feel your strong features, and somehow gain an understanding of who you are.

Am I to understand that you meet me right here in this place of unknowing?

My words don’t create confidence – they are born out of a heart of restlessness and selfishness. In complete silence, whispering or thinking, “God,” I simply offer my inability to make sense of you, of me, of the journey. I long for peace, but not as the world gives. Your peace is not found in my comfort, my happiness, or even my “knowing.” I find your peace when I surrender to your will and create space in my heart to receive your grace.

“God.” What does that even mean? Who am I that I should dare to utter your name in ignorance? What is man that you are mindful of him? I only know what you choose to reveal.

Because you are God, you won’t grow tired or weary, and you never get sick. When I am sick, as I have been this week, I get tired and my body wears down. I realize how “corruptible” this body really is. In seasons like this, when I am tired and unable to keep my focus on you for more than a few minutes at a time, I know you are more than able to give me your undivided attention. I know you don’t get angry when I struggle in my mortal flesh. Instead, you gently remind me to keep my heart and mind on things above, where Christ is.

God, you are love of the purest form. The harshest realities of this world only serve to magnify your love even more. As I contemplate you in prayer, I lose myself in wonder and push pride of knowledge and experience underneath the cloud of forgetting. I reach out to grasp you – only you. Thank you for drawing closer to me as I draw closer to you. Thank you for piercing my heart with arrows of your love and grace. May my prayer life be more consumed by your unknowable presence, and may my “inner-man” be transformed according to your good pleasure.

In the name of Jesus Christ, I pray this prayer of thanksgiving for another week spent in every-increasing union with you. Amen.


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