Where can I go from your spirit?
From your presence, where can I flee?
If I ascend to the heavens, you are there;
if I lie down in Sheol, there you are.
If I take the wings of dawn
and dwell beyond the sea,
Even there your hand guides me,
your right hand holds me fast.
If I say, “Surely darkness shall hide me,
and night shall be my light”
Darkness is not dark for you,
and night shines as the day.
Darkness and light are but one.
I don't remember playing peekaboo with my parents, uncles or aunts, but I do remember playing with my younger brothers and sisters. It's the silliest of games but little children find it hysterically funny. What is it, I wonder, that is so amusing to their dawning awareness in their rapidly developing world?
Perhaps the game recreates the anxiety of caregivers going away; and then, the reassurance of their return. Their disappearing smile is reaffirmed by the same smile upon their reappearance.
God sometimes seems to go away from us. There are moments of abandonment in every life. They may last only a short time, or they may go on for years.
Sometimes we bring them upon ourselves. I have often heard alcoholics declare they have no faith in God. One fellow admitted he had displaced his faith in God with faith in alcohol, a most unworthy substance. With that realization he was well on his way to recovery.
The psalmist's prayer recounts the night when they hid in darkness only to learn that darkness and light are the same to God.
How could I be so silly? they might have said.
But even the saints complain about God's absence as they insist they have done nothing to deserve such a punishment.
Saint Paul's letters must have seemed like peekaboo moments to his people in Thessalonica, Corinth, and Galatia. He had gone away but he wrote to them and the cadences of his words and phrases recreated his presence. His was a sacred presence, like that a father with his children. He exhorted and encouraged them and insisted that they walk in a manner worthy of the God who called them into his Kingdom and glory.
Recently, when someone asked me at the hospital for a Bible I felt impelled to remind them what the Bible should do for them. It should be like meeting people of two and three thousand years ago, and praying with them.
They seemed to be gone away; but they abide in the cloud of witnesses. They pray with us for relief and deliverance in this twenty-first century. Perhaps, as we encounter them in God's word, we also pray with them for deliverance from the threats and oppressions of their day.
The Lord's face is hidden at times, but he is only behind the veil of his wounded hands.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.