Where can I find him?

 

"Is there anyplace I can go to avoid your Spirit?

     Or be out of your sight?

If I climb to the sky, you’re there!

    If I go underground, you’re there!

If I flew on morning’s wings to the far western horizon,

You’d find me in a minute - you’re already there waiting!

Then I said to myself, 'Oh, he even sees me in the dark!

    At night I’m immersed in the light!'

It’s a fact: darkness isn’t dark to you;

    night and day, darkness and light, they’re all the same to you."   Psalm 139

I used to read this and wonder about the darkness bit.

I mean, surely we wouldn't find God in the darkness.  Why would he be there?

This year, I've found him.  

Not in the big or small church gatherings.

Not in the flashy music or the single strumming guitar.

Not in the wordy preaches or the group bible studies.

Not in the daily 'quiet time'.

I've found him in the dew-covered cobwebs, in the brand new petals reaching for the sunlight and in the vast expansive views from the heights of the hills.

I've found him in the steely courage of a survivor of unimaginable horrors, smiling and pressing on with life despite the physical and mental pain she's in.

I've found him lying in shards of glass as I hold onto my howling teenager for literal dear-life.

I've found him in the stories of old.  The well-knowns like Elijah and David and the relatively newer stories of Nana and Grandad and Elisabeth Eliot and Amy Carmichael.

I've found him in the flowers on my coffee table, their bright colours smiling on my day.

I've found him in the deep conversations sitting around a crackling fire as the light of the day dims.

I've found him in the cheerful and sacrificial love of those who welcome strangers into their homes.

I've found him in the guitar playing and gravelly voice of a teenage boy.

I've found him in the early morning praise of the birdsong.

I've found him in the hot tub, surrounded by the haze of weed but talking about him as if he's really there.

I've found him in the warmth of sunshine on my face and the crunch of snow under my feet.

I've found him in bacon butties cooked for the hordes, the morning after the drunken noisy night before.

I've found him in the smile of a child as they delight in smashing ice on a lake.

I've found him in the middle of a fight with a teenager.

I've found him as I've listened and really heard.

I've found him while brushing strokes of paint onto an empty wall.

When things become darker, he becomes closer.

He speaks to me in the ugly places, the moments of beauty and the times of raw open heart-ache.  He's waiting for me in the dark places.  He's already there.  

In those dark, uncomfortable, lonely, fear-ridden, gritty, messy and unexpected places, I've found his streams of light beaming in like rays of sun though the forest trees.

Don't fear the dark places.

He got there before us.