Imagine Adam and Eve
walking with God in the Garden. Enjoying the cool of the day, talking,
communing, loving and being loved. A perfect intimacy. The Garden reality. Adam
had been created for a purpose, appointed and anointed for his work in the garden.
I remember that feeling.
Of knowing I was exactly who God created me to be. Hearing His voice. Enjoying
His company. Walking with Him in the cool of the day. There was work, but the
work was alongside Him and for Him and so that work seemed as rest to me. That
work was where I found contentment and pleasure in loving Him and loving His
people.
I remember
I remember that intimacy.
I remember encouraging
others that just as Adam walked with God in the cool of the day, so can you! That the “Garden reality” is
still available to us today… intimacy. Knowing.
Loving and being loved. Walking bare before Him and NOT EVEN RECOGNIZING your
nakedness.
Not even recognizing your
nakedness. Your vulnerability. Your failures. Being so close to Him that you
feel the covering of His perfect love. That you rest beautifully, perfectly, in
the comfort of His presence.
I remember what that was
like.
Walking with God in the cool
of the day.
But then there is also
THIS. This place that I’m in now. This place that is so difficult to
articulate. This place of knowing what a good, loving, purpose-filled God He is…
this place of remembering intimate moments worshiping Him in my living room-
Misty Edwards blaring and hands waving and tears streaming and a heart
EXPLODING with adoration… this place of remembering those things as though they
were both yesterday and a lifetime away.
And I wonder
I wonder if this is how
Adam and Eve felt when they were kicked out of the Garden? Did they look back
at those times of intimacy? Did they have this eternal longing to be again in His
presence? Did they understand what had been lost? Did they even know?
I have to believe they
did. Because I do. As hard as I try to push back that remembrance of what once
was, I cannot escape it. I cannot escape it and…
And I understand
I understand what it feels
like to be alone. To feel like you can’t even hear His voice. To be so wrapped in darkness you aren’t really sure
how to pursue the Light you once danced in so freely.
I understand. I understand what it is like to be so
vibrantly and painfully aware of your nakedness that your only instinct is to hide. To hide from others, to hide from yourself,
and when you hear His footsteps in the cool of the day… to hide from Him.
I understand. I understand
what it is like go from the confidence of knowing
you have been anointed and appointed for a work to being crippled by the fear
of failure.
To be afraid to open the
pages of your Bible because you are TERRIFIED
of what that mirror is going to look like.
To avoid His people
because the weight of their judgment, real or imagined, is too much to bear.
To leave a stack of cards
from one of the most beautiful hearts you have encountered unopened because you
simply cannot face the promise that you know lies within them. The
encouragement. The Truth.
I understand
I wonder
I remember what I do not
want to recall in my darkness. I recall a passage of Scripture, studied deeply,
etched into my heart for such a time as this, a time when His Word lay dormant
on my end table.
If I say,
“Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,”
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you. Psalm 139:11-12
and the light become night around me,”
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you. Psalm 139:11-12
And in that, a gentle whisper from the other side
of that Garden gate… a voice into my darkness saying,
I still
see you.
