It’s a strange feeling, flying blind. After the last three years of relentless pushing from the almost ceaseless press of God’s breath at my back, it is still. I asked for this. I prayed for this. I begged for it. I couldn’t imagine going through the process of Discernment as it was before. Meeting monthly and getting to know such wonderful people in my church, getting to know them deeply with the goal of truly listening to them as they heard God’s voice, with the overwhelming presence of his direction to me drowning out everything around me.
I am not quite alone, I feel his presence with me, as my shadow now, silent and still, but he is present. Just not a nimbus pressing upon me with light and will, urging me to action.
I cannot describe how desolate I feel as the loss. I did not expect it. Some part of me is turned inward always searching, searching, trying to find him again. Even though I know without a doubt that I won’t, not now. Not until he wills it so. I feel like a compass spinning without a true north. A soldier in winter slogging through half thawed mud, one step at a time, miles and miles to go…not sure how many because the landscape is blank with snow as far as the eye can see. Dogged determination. I will do this, I will listen. I will not act. I will wait.
I believe so strongly that his will WILL be done. That he will open and close the doors he wishes to open and close before me. That I will be the truest me I can be, and that this will lead me directly to him.
What do I mean when I say the truest me? I guess I mean that best part of ourselves that I believe lives within us that enables God to move us in the world. That part of us that is moved to help others, to comfort the sick or helpless. To seek justice, to improve the lives of our brothers and sisters in the world, even at cost to ourselves. It’s the part that acts as God’s hands, that feels pain when people suffer and acts to alleviate it so that we do the work of God in the world. That is the truest part of me, the truest part of us all. Every time we follow it’s call we build our soul and every time we resist its urging we tear it down a little. We move closer to God or farther from him.
I remember reading about Mother Theresa and how she had felt God’s call so strongly when she was young, but then, it had absented itself from her for most of her life. She lost that direction and certainty that once had flushed her full of divine purpose. Yet she persisted, throughout her life, she persisted.
Of course, God may never come back to me the way he did before. He may have put me on the path he wished and now it may be up to me. What if I never feel that again? That blissful union? What if I have to wait until death to return to it? Will I be able to stay the course?
How could I do anything but stay the course? I live for the possibility of being in his presence again in any way. Nothing interests me more than studying and teaching about the nature of God and how to reach for him listen for him calling for you. I love hearing and reading stories from every religion that talk about this because there are stories in all of them of this experience. Of people reaching for God and finding him, and of God reaching for people and them hearing and knowing him.
It’s my favorite love story.
And oh the power of that love and what a world we can make with it.