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Your Presence is Enough

September 2, 2020

I love reading fantasy fiction where you have to slow down in order to create a scene in your mind. You read the words carefully, craft-fully to be sure that the world the author has created matches your own depiction of it. Nonfiction I am tempted to skim through, skipping lines, while still maintaining the general idea of it all. Not the same. 

So these words I type, I pray, are not words you skim over. But words you dwell in. Like a world being created in your mind: heaven. (At least, to the best of my abilities, which is probably very far from what heaven is really like. Bear with me. Imagine with me. You can do this.)

God’s presence is enough. Those are words I’ve sung, believed, written, prayed, and been prophesied. God’s presence is enough. And yet there’s always more to learn.


Breathe. (Really, take a deep breath. Count to four. Now exhale. Slooooowly. Thank you.)


All of the dreams you have (or don’t have!) are so small and mighty. 


But, say it with me: God, Your presence is enough.


All of the plans you have (or don’t have!!) are perfect.


But, say it with me again: God, Your presence is enough.


We can dream and plan and hope and create. All of those things are good, wonderful, delightful. But there’s something so special in finding fulfillment in God’s presence right    where     we     are. 


There’s no box that has to be checked off, there’s no to do list that must be finished before we can embody the reality of His presence being everything.


Pray with me: Oh Lord of Love, Your Presence is enough.


He is with you. Imagine the man of Jesus sitting in a chair across from you. Eyes on you. He is relaxed. Gazing at you with His eyes deep with love. He has one leg propped over the other, ankle resting on a knee. His elbow is leaning on an arm of the chair. He enjoys just being with you. “Talk to me, beloved.” He says. His voice calm, sincere. He loves you. The look in His eyes tell you that He loves you. Maybe you know exactly what to say in response. Maybe you don’t. Maybe you coyly reply, “Talk to me, Jesus. Tell me what’s on your heart.” Maybe you move toward him and on your knees you cry, washing his feet with your tears and hair. Maybe you sit in the chair with him and listen to Him talk. Maybe you lean your head on his shoulder and feel the heat of Him. Maybe He doesn’t say anything and it gets so quiet you can hear his heartbeat. Maybe you just sit there, smiling, knowing that His presence is enough.