I took an unknown route, walking along a deserted stretch of straight road, gravel crunching beneath my shoes, a wall of tall grass stretching over my head banking each side. No movement, no sound of human life, only the faint hum of bees hovering around a splash of flowers budding from scraggly weeds, birds flitting between branches, and the sun high overhead.
As I looked up toward a billowy parade of clouds, I noticed the bare tips of stark pine branches like arms lifted in endless surrender. I imagined God’s watchful presence peeking over those timber shoulders, towering in the wide expanse of bluest sky.
How far should I walk into the unknown, I debated.
I have children to feed, books to read, a shower to take and a family who expects me to be present.
It was then that I noticed the beginning of a new road converging right. Intrigued by where it was leading, I was surprised by what I discovered as I walked closer.
The road was actually a driveway, the entrance to a pristine house deckled with swinging fuchsia pots on a carpet of green grass, unnoticeable from my vantage point down the road. Like opening a gift you never knew you wanted, I circled around and walked back.
It is said that Brother Lawrence experienced conversion at the age of eighteen during a midwinter walk when he happened on a dry, leafless tree standing gaunt against the snow. The presence of the tree stirred deep thoughts about changes to come with spring. He spent his life washing dishes and repairing sandals, yet earned the reputation of living in the continual presence of God.
And I can’t see it but I can feel the chameleon change in the deep wells of my spirit like life returning to dry bones.
Because there is no place that God isn’t present, no destiny too distant for hope to pull us through.
What a difference it would make if we stopped limiting the sound of his voice to sermons, intentional small groups, hanging our heads over inspiring books and potlucks. And we abhorred mediocrity instead of giving in to it.
The presence of God and the manifestation of His presence are not the same thing, they are different. One is a knowing acceptance, while the other requires receptivity and action; doing something about what your soul longs to experience, cultivating surrender while remaining expectant.
We will hear him speak, when we learn to listen and desire his voice. Listening isn’t passive, it’s intentional.
If we push past the tall hedge of our insular experience, we will discover the mystery hidden from plain sight. The unexpected joy of beauty we didn’t know existed until we found courage to walk past fear into the driveway of the unknown.
We wander around looking for hope and perhaps we already possess it. We take it with us wherever we go.
Linking with Jennifer and Emily.
This post reminds me of the old hymn (My Father’s World) that sings “He speaks to me everywhere … ”
Especially those trees with arms lifted in endless surrender. Oh my.
I love how you think Kelli, you are able to quickly pull quotes and random things from the files of you mind. I wish I had a memory like yours. It’s one of the ways you remind me of my best friend LuAnn, she has that uncanny ability too.
I call it being a nerd, actually. But I’m sure it’s rather cute when LuAnn does it – she’s the sweetie I met at JTreat, right?
“I rest me in the thought …”
This?
“What a difference it would make if we stopped limiting the sound of his voice to sermons, intentional small groups, hanging our heads over inspiring books and potlucks. And we abhorred mediocrity instead of giving in to it.”
Yes.
I have heard it said, “Mediocrity is the enemy of greatness.” I’m finding myself more and more unsatisfied with the easy, pithy sermonettes and quoteables … I want a faith deeper than 140 characters. I want those hard words, the ones I have to ponder and read over again in order to allow truth to penetrate the slick veneer of easy faith I’ve grown far to comfortable with.
Me too Terri Lynne. I’m getting so bored with the same old models of doing church and discipling people. I want to challenge and be challenged to think in broad brush strokes.
Me three. This is what I crave–I am ravenous for this kind of deep, intentional worship. This is a beautiful word, Shelly.
So glad you posted that…your words are how I’ve been feeling, too recently and you wrote it beautifully! Thank you!
I think something is stirring Beth. And perhaps we wouldn’t be longing for something more if we were content and comfortable.
I agree Shelly…thanks for your reply!
I am here!!!!! I need to be with others who are hearing and feeling this too. Gah. I am so fed up with the peddling of mediocrity masked as excellence. Thanks Shelley.
I think we’ve forgotten what it means to do life with excellence as a high value. Mediocre at all costs is not what I’m looking for.
“Cultivating surrender while remaining expectant.” Yes. A tricky place to be, sometimes; a comfortable place other times. And both halves are necessary. That’s what I’ve been learning to do today, I think, actually. Thanks for putting words to it.
Love that picture of the Queen Anne’s lace.
I agree Laura. Sometimes it can be painful but when we know the result of surrender is deeper intimacy, it makes it so worth it.
Queen Anne’s lace is everywhere in Canada. I paid a lot to have it put in my wedding bouquet in Phoenix when I could’ve cut it in large bunches on the side of the road.
I’ve thought of you often since you lost your Dad, Laura and I’ve been praying for you. Just wanted you to know that.
Thank you, Shelly. That means a lot to me.
Yes, Shelly, so ready to see God in the unexpected. And this right here rocked my world a little bit: The presence of God and the manifestation of His presence are not the same thing, they are different. One is a knowing acceptance, while the other requires receptivity and action; doing something about what your soul longs to experience, cultivating surrender while remaining expectant.
Thank you, friend. I love Brother Lawrence, too.
I first read the concept in the Pursuit of God by Tozer Ashley and it has rocked my world ever since, something I’ve known but he put legs on it and made it walk. Thanks for being here.
“the manifestation of His presence… requires receptivity and action; doing something about what your soul longs to experience, cultivating surrender while remaining expectant. We will hear him speak, when we learn to listen and desire his voice.” Yes! Great words of wisdom, and confirmation for my choosing this, today, rather than the mediocre. Thank you, Shelly.
Thank God for confirmations Sylvia, lovely to see you here friend.
Those ‘unknown routes,’ the deserted lanes, the abandoned beaches, the scary new experiences … those are the places that usually yield some unexpected joy …
I couldn’t agree more Linda, they are for me too.
For me, it is no longer a choice to limit where I seek His presence. My life may look like “washing dishes” at times but if that’s what it takes to live life to the full, above mediocrity—-then bring on the dishes. BTW, I hope yours aren’t still in the sink. 🙂 You inspire me always. Thank you my dear friend.
Nope, they are done. Onward to the next heap! Love you Dea.
This is lovely. And I love your last sentence — and with Jesus, we always have hope in Him to which to cling.
mmm, i LOVE Brother Lawrence. i love his words and his thoughts. and girl, i love your heart and your soul manifesting His presence.
So beautiful… like breathing in deep – fresh mountain air! It stirs up hope and whispers to lean in closer to all He is calling us into!
And I can’t see it but I can feel the chameleon change in the deep wells of my spirit like life returning to dry bones.
Me too me too…beautiful Shelly
beautiful reflection. This is actual a walking prayer!
Mmmmm … Yes, you do this well, this practicing the presence of God.
I can tell you’ve been reading your Bible and your Tozer, Shelly, and reading God’s world! =] Ah, trees! How they have spoken to me over the years. When God led me to leave a twenty-year career in autumn to which I was desperately clinging, God spoke to me through the trees that were shedding their leaves. I watched as they “let go” from their branches, to which they had tenaciously clung, and when they let go, they entered a graceful waltz pirouetting in the breeze. As I stood mesmerized by their beauty, I heard God’s clear words in my heart: “Lynn, let go.” And so, after so many years in a fascinating workplace, I let go and came home to raise our beautiful daughter. I loved Sheridan so much, but it was so difficult not to be around adults and receive accolades for my work, etc. Then God used the winter tree and Psalm 1 to show me that though He had stripped me of the lush leafage of professional recognition and stimulation, if I would root myself in Him by streams of the living water of His Word, in due time, I’d bear fruit. I will never forget the hushed awe I experienced when I learned that Brother Lawrence had had a similiar experience. I took a “road less traveled,” Shelly, as I believe you are doing, a road wending its way apart from life as usual, from mediocrity and mundanity, and God met me at that crossroads and has been guiding me ever since (actually, before that). When we obey, and follow HIS path, He will indeed manifest Himself to us in ways too numerous, too extraordinary to count. And as I said in my book on journaling (Love Letters to God): “Trees bloom in season; and in times of barrenness, their leafless limbs raise in praise to their Maker. Freed of foilage, they have an unparalleled opportunity to hold stars, shining like jewels in their branches. In my stripped condition, I decided to grasp the stars of life I’d been too blind to see. Every day I recorded my blessings in my journal, discovering a host of unexpected luminaries lighting my darkness like coruscating constellations of joy. . . . When, like the autumn leaf, I let go–I entered the beauty of God’s dance, finally free to follow Him only, knowing that the only place into which I could fall was the palm of my Partner’s hand.” Shelly, I think you have fallen there–into that place of obedience, into that unknown but change-felt destiny, into that land gleaming its beckoning (and “beaconing!”) welcome far from the shores of mediocrity. You are listening and looking and walking into the unknown; but it’s not unknown to God! I am soooo excited for you as you take the plunge down that road and take us with you. I can’t wait to read about what He does next, how He next manifests His magnificent presence!
You are loved!
Lynn
Because there is no place that God isn’t present, no destiny too distant for hope to pull us through….
yes. he’s been speaking this to me as well friend. even in the greatest loss, his hope, his love, is there. in the middle of it all. and oh, how i love that brother lawrence…