A question was posed at church yesterday: Where and when have you experienced the movement of the Spirit?
It was Christmas morning and I was sad.
I was sad because I felt alone.
Yes, I was the only one up…Corinne, the puppies, and the kitties were snuggled in their beds with visions of sugar plums still in their heads. But this is not the kind of “alone” I mean. This “alone” is good. I love this “alone.” I drink coffee, read, and pray to this kind of “alone.” This alone makes me happy. My introverted self has fallen in love with this “alone.”
The aloneness I’m talking about hurts deep in your spirit, and its name is rejection.
I was sad because I felt rejected by those who were supposed to love me.
They use to love me and welcome me into their life. We shared tears and laughter, and get-togethers…dinners and movies… We were partakers of time together. My time was their time and their time was my time.
But on this particular Christmas morning I was alone and the chasm was deep.
Seated on my sofa I began to cry.
I noticed the Bible on the table beside me. I reached for it with the intent of reading the Christmas story…after-all it was Christmas morning.
Matthew? Mark? Luke? John? What version should I read? I chose John.
John’s version of Christmas opens at the time of creation, and I envisioned Jesus’ Spirit moving within the mist among His heavens.
John speaks of Christ and how the words of His mouth created all we see. He paints Jesus as light and life, and how his light shown in the darkness and how the darkness comprehended it not…and how this light physically came into the world as a babe lying in a manger.
As I read I began to feel his presence.
I felt his Spirit urging me to read on. As if He whispered “Read on my child…I have something else to tell you…” And so I did, and as I did I saw the words…”He came unto his own and his own received him not.”
In that moment his gentle voice spoke to my heart…”I know how you feel…”
Again I cried, but I was not alone.
Word for the day: Mist