Monday, November 2, 2009

Dearest God,

Dwelling place, you have been my dwelling place. If I were to describe three things that you are, dwelling place would be one. So often I have referred to you as my dwelling place. And what is this dwelling place? It is a presence, a living presence eternally present, any place, any time.

I have found you as my dwelling place when I have soared with angels and saints but also as I found myself in the bowels of hell. You have been my dwelling place during times of confusion, frustration, doubt, fear and wonderment. When I give myself to you as dwelling place, I walk into your arms and you and I become one.

Wherever I have gone, I have found you waiting or traveling with me. Your dwelling place is wherever your children lodge and beyond. I have discovered you in the midst of a weed-filled garden, in the spectacular night skies, in the breath of the wind, in a tearful reunion, in a fear-filled moment and especially in acts of grace. You present yourself in moments of illumination and inspiration.

A wanderer once asked, "Where can I go that you are not there? If I go into the heavens, you are there. If I go to Sheol, you are there." I have been that wanderer when I sought answers from heaven, when I felt alone, when I questioned myself, when I lay in my sin and stood in my alleluias.

As this dwelling place God, you challenge me to lean, to bend, to change, to give, to surrender, to hope, to love, to faith, to trust, to commit, to walk. Nothing stays the same in your presence. My hopelessness must give way to hope, my darkness must surrender to the light, and my fear must give itself to faith. The simple act of breathing becomes dwelling in your presence.

Dwelling Place God,
I am lighter
in your presence.
I am freer
in your presence.
I am happier
in your presence.
I am stronger
in your presence.
I am joyous
in your presence.
I am peaceful
in your presence.
I am faith
in your presence.
I am love
in your presence.
Let me dwell
with you
all the days
of my life
into eternity,
I pray.

Love, Andrea