having had Him once.

So much of this blog is my own attempt to capture, if just for a moment, the steps on this path. To reach out and say something, anything, about these individual moments to make them stay. To remember them. Cherish them.

I was standing in the narthex last week, leaning against one of those pillars that have the words at the top, maybe the one the that says "Hope." (Is there one that says "Hope"?) I remembered standing there months ago. So much happens in a month now. Every three weeks, I think back to three before, and barely recognize myself. There are friends I haven't seen for a few weeks, and when I see them again, I feel as though I should warn them: "I look the same, but you might have to get to know me again." It's probably not really noticeable to anyone else.

But I was standing by the pillar, and I turned to look out. The glass soars upward, and, despite that building across 65, and 65 itself, there's something expansive about the view. Something that reminds me that God is a big God. I stood there, doing what I do in the quiet moments, trying to connect to God.

I worry a lot that I create a god for myself--that in my attempts to pin a feeling, or a sensation of God, I cheapen Him. But in that moment, I understood. It doesn't matter whether I can "feel" God. My sensing God is irrelevant to His existence. He doesn't exist as a part of my heart or brain, but as a physical reality so much larger than any part of me. If I ceased to connect with Him today, if I never put another ounce of effort into being with Him, He would still exist.

The problem for me, with those thoughts, is that when I really start to understand like that, the enormity of God slams into me, and I feel like throwing up. The realities of this faith--that there is the God so powerful, His gargantuan love for me, His sacrifice, His continuing faithfulness--are completely overwhelming.

But the thoughts are important. The understanding is important.

Also important--the knowing that this isn't up to me. I pray sincerely for God to help me to understand our relationship. I read His word. I participate in His body. That's my job. Now, I trust. I cannot force a natural understanding onto a supernatural phenomenon.

I'll wait for Him because I want more of Him. But also because He is worthy of my waiting. Because even if He never felt close again, I'd have everything, having had Him close even once.