I said these words last night at 2:00 am;
"I know you."
It felt like God was in the room. My eyes were wet and my voice was trembling.
"I know you."
Speaking, I knew that I was being heard; looked at, understood.
In that knowing moment I knew that nothing could touch me. There was no greater truth for me to understand or experience. Nothing came close.
All of the struggles of these past six months seemed so small; the pain of leaving a church, the incessant theological pushback, the uncertainty about my vocational future, my insecurity. None of these things really mattered in comparison with knowing him.
Knowing God, I've got all I need for the work he's called me to. He is with me as I teach and preach and write about his everywhere presence. I don't need to worry about what I'm going to say. I don't need to scramble for an effective enough argument, or enough proof texts. I don't need to be eloquent enough or smart enough or prepared enough.
I don't need any of this stuff because he is more than enough.
The all powerful, providential, holding-the-cosmos-together-even-as-we-speak God that I'm struggling so deeply to make known knows me.
Personally. Intimately. Wholeheartedly.
So what have I to be afraid of?
So for today I'm going to keep on listening, working and waiting; attending to his presence, going where he calls.
"Whom have I in heaven but You?
And besides You, I desire nothing on earth."