Lift up your heart to Him...

Lift up your heart to Him, sometimes even at your meals, and when you are in company; the least little remembrance will always be acceptable to Him. You need not cry very loud; he is nearer to us than we are aware of. ...Brother Lawrence image

Granting that we are always in the presence of God...

Granting that we are always in the presence of God, yet it seems to me that those who pray are in His presence in a very different sense; for they, as it were, see that He is looking upon them, while others may be for days together without even once recollecting that God sees them.
...Teresa of Avila  image by A. Sparrow

"May I be in Thy presence, Lord?"

There come times when I have nothing more to tell God. If I were to continue to pray in words, I would have to repeat what I have already said. At such times it is wonderful to say to God, "May I be in Thy presence, Lord? I have nothing more to say to Thee, but I do love to be in Thy presence." ...O. Hallesby photo

It is not necessary to maintain a conversation...

It is not necessary to maintain a conversation when we are in the presence of God. We can come into His presence and rest our weary souls in quiet contemplation of Him. Our groanings, which cannot be uttered, rise to Him and tell Him better than words how dependent we are upon Him. ...O. Hallesby image

The Opposite of Presence



Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Jill Carattini

Excerpt:
Though many would like to say that the majority of our lives have been spent searching for God, perhaps it is more accurate to say that we have been sought. Even so, like the children in Levertov's poem, time and again I know I find myself bereft of his presence. Sometimes it just feels like I am sitting in the dark.

One of my seminary professors once told me that God's presence is not the opposite of God's absence. At first glance this didn't seem the least bit encouraging. And yet, maybe I have seen this notion lived out after all. For even when I am most stirred by God's nearness—when God's presence seems an undeniable truth—am I not also simultaneously stung by the ache of longing to be nearer or the reality of not quite yet being at home? In our best encounters with God, presence and absence remain intertwined. What might this then mean for the moments when I am feeling tormented by God's absence?

The Christian Scriptures seem to suggest of the dark what children learn of their parents. Namely, the dark does not imply the absence of a caring person. "Though an army besiege me," says David, "my heart will not fear; though war break out against me, even then will I be confident" (Psalm 27:3). David's confidence was not in the absence of darkness, but in the character of the one who watched over him in the dark. "I am still confident of this," he concludes. "I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living" (v. 13).

Though we struggle when God seems far off, perhaps it need not be without hope. When the land was dark with the death of Christ weighing on its shoulders, God exhaustively sought despairing hearts in the thick of that darkness. And the risen Christ is still today the certainty of God's nearness and the promise of his care in the dark. "Thus," writes Os Guinness, "Christians do not say to God, 'I do not understand you at all, but I trust you anyway.' That would be suicidal. Rather, they say, 'Father, I do not understand you, but I trust you'—or more accurately, 'I do not understand you in this situation, but I understand why I trust you anyway.' It is therefore reasonable to trust even when we do not understand. We may be in the dark about what God is doing, but we are not in the dark about God."(2)

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image by milena mihaynova