A Dull Spiritual Season
Years ago, I remember being very frustrated with my Christian walk. Just like this giant tortoise, I plodded slowly along, heavy and earthbound, covered with dust.
Unlike many of my friends, I could never feel God’s presence or sense Him when He was near. I felt blind and deaf to the spiritual world around me, wrapped in thick layers of cotton cloth.
Spiritually stuck in one place.
Finally I asked the Lord to break me free of my rut—and I didn’t care what it took.
Nervous Anticipation
Metaphorically I squeezed my eyes shut and clinched my whole body, waiting for the blow. I worried that when God broke me loose, it would hurt. Surely the Holy Spirit would have to do something drastic to propel me to the next spiritual level.
Wrong.
I didn’t know my Lord’s loving nature as deeply as I do now. The Devil stirred up all sorts of fears and anxieties. I believe he was desperately trying to stop me from seeking God in a deeper way.
When a Christian prays, “take me deeper Lord, no matter what it takes” Satan is in serious trouble!
God’s Laughing Answer
Looking back, I think God gazed at His child, her eyes squeezed shut, waiting for something bad to happen and laughed out loud. Then He blessed me with a most unusual gift; the gift of holy laughter. “You want to feel my presence daughter? Here you go.”
Today my spiritual laughter rises up whenever I start truly praising Him during worship. As I enter into the Spirit, laughter just starts joyfully bubbling up on the inside. Soon I’m enjoying His presence.
Today I still pray “Change me Lord, and I don’t care what it costs” whenever I’m seeking to be set free from something.
But my trust in Him is greater and my fear is much less. Because I now know my God and His gentleness in a deeper way.
And we both laugh.
Images from Pixabay.com.
Resources:
Some interesting facts about the giant tortoise can be found by clicking here.
When I spoke in Pit Dweller Part 7 about the joy starting to bubble up, I was speaking about experiencing this gift of holy laughter.
