Transitions - Tarry There

I was once asked, “If you came into your family room and Jesus was sitting on the sofa, where would you sit?”

I answered with silence, thinking it over…

“Would you climb into His lap?”

Needing more time, I asserted that if Jesus came to visit me in person, He wouldn’t be on the sofa, but would likely slip into the garden and sit on our bench.

“I believe I would sit at His feet.” That was my first thought. It seemed like a good option. I was thinking of Martha’s sister Mary in Luke 10:39. It’s where one would sit to receive wisdom from a revered teacher, to look up and wonder at their words. Plus, it suggests I intend to stay put and let everything else go.

After a couple of years, this question still makes its way into my thoughts. It’s been lingering, prodding me to reflect further. I accept many fell flat on their faces when they encountered the Lord (Luke 5:8, Revelation 1:17). Overcome with fear, or in worship, or in desperate supplication, they immediately fell down to acknowledge and yield to His holiness and power. Would climbing into Jesus lap even be an option? Would it be presumptuous or overly familiar?

This year, two things have shaped my thinking on this. In my morning walks along the trail and on bike rides at the beach during the summer, I found myself veering to move out of the way of vines growing out into the trail. They had what seemed to be unusually long tendrils, reaching out to seek a support. Tendrils like these find their supportive host by touch. Once a supportive host is located, chemical reactions cause them to curl and wrap around the support, creating a coil. As the coil ages it becomes woodier and provides a rigid, lasting support for the plant.

I took note of how well designed these tendrils are for clinging. They reach out and take hold with a grasp that permanently changes their form and character. This clinging allows them to receive what they need. If they don’t cling, they cannot carry out their role. These long, in-my-face tendrils were a prompt to consider God’s design for us. Our need can only be satisfied in the One who is our Deliverer and Sustainer (Psalm 18:2, Isaiah 46:4). As we reach out to Him, He is the One who takes our hand and secures us in His hold, so that we won’t slip or stumble (Psalm 63:8). He says cling to Him alone (Joshua 23:8). The tighter and longer we hold on, the more we are transformed into His likeness. In truth, we can do nothing without Him.

I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing.
John 15:5

Also influencing my thinking is Genesis 45, which tells how Joseph reveals himself to his brothers. After hearing that this powerful ruler is Joseph, the brothers are terrified because they’ve been exposed. Joseph is quite alive! In verse 4, he says to them, “Come close to me.” After all the evil they had done to him, he calls them near. He wants them to draw near. Calling them close signifies relationship – they are His brothers (Genesis 45:4). It expresses forgiveness – he holds no malice. As they draw close, Joseph desires to alleviate their distress by pointing out that God Himself sent him before them to Egypt to preserve life (Gen. 45:5-8). In this intimate conversation, Joseph demonstrates his power and desire to bless them (Gen. 45:10-11). His love for them creates a safe place for them to draw near (Gen. 45:14-15).

Joseph’s love is a good model of Christ’s love for me, for us. In His tenderness, Jesus asks us to draw near. He wants us near Him, close like a child, close enough for intimate directness, so we can hear and understand. We can draw close because it’s safe. Just as with Joseph, the Lord’s power is used to save His loved ones and give life. Like Joseph, Christ has gone ahead of us to bring about a great deliverance. He says He will provide; He says don’t be afraid. Come close, don’t tarry (Genesis 45:9).

If sitting at His feet suggests the posture of an eager hearer, and falling at His feet is a posture of fearful reverence, what would climbing into His lap suggest? I believe it would express a childlike abandon of absolute trust and a sheer joy and delight in seeing Him. I think it would also indicate a close, intimate relationship already exists. As I look forward to seeing Him with my own eyes, I yearn for this kind of faith.

“O Lord, help us grow in our trust of You, so that like those in-your-face tendrils along the path, we reach out with joyful abandon. May we not hold back, but even now come close. Hold us tight, keep us secure in Your hold as we cling to You, that we may be forever changed.”

This refrain from an old hymn comes to mind. Tarry a few minutes to listen and enjoy.

I will arise and go to Jesus,
He will embrace me in His arms;
In the arms of my dear Savior,
Oh, there are ten thousand charms.
Joseph Hart 1759

I’m excited to let you know my resource page is underway! You can find it here or in the drop down Menu by selecting In the Tool Shed. I started with some of my favorite books in the Walk of Faith and Gardening sections. I’ll add a Destination/Events section and continue to update. Let me know you if you have suggestions!

As the season has changed to fall, we’ve experienced shorter days, some cooler temperatures, and a good drenching of rain. As it poured, I peered through the storm door several times to search for hints of color or any visuals that autumn had arrived, but there were none. After the rainy days, we ventured out for some birding at Latta Plantation Nature Preserve. The only leaves showing fall color were a couple of red-tinged dogwood trees. But there were other signs of fall I savored, especially the aroma. Likely from all the grasses and wildflowers, it smelled like fall! It also sounded like fall. The insects were buzzing rhythmically, and the birds were conversant and darting about in small flocks. The lighting was lazy and the atmosphere seemed different. We walked the Hill Trail and lingered in different spots, listening.

For me, fall usually starts out as a rude interruption. With sadness I remember the summer warmth and all the outdoor fun, our backyard gatherings, my garden, the flowers, our beach trips, and the long hours of sunlight. I peer into the distance, see the harshness of winter is coming, and consider the passing of time and my own preparedness for what may come. On this day I wanted to move past the bump and embrace the season! In this beautiful setting I began to relax, and that fall feeling I had been looking for came, peacefully descending on me in a spirit of trust.

There on the hill, listening for the call of birds and hearing the rustle of the tall grasses, I thought of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poem, “The Autumn.” It begins this way:

Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods and waters wild
Do hymn an autumn sound.
The summer sun is faint on them —
The summer flowers depart —
Sit still — as all transform’d to stone,
Except your musing heart.

Wow — I do like this opening stanza! I like her imperative to “Go.” Browning instructs us to take our lesson on a hill, where we just sit. We are to look around, taking it in, being still. I appreciate too the way she conveys what she hears. The woods and the waters “hymn an autumn sound.” She invites us to hear them singing a song of praise. Then she addresses our heart, our musing heart. Muse means to reflect deeply on a subject, so she’s acknowledging our need to meditate. The poem continues:

How there you sat in summer-time,
May yet be in your mind;
And how you heard the green woods sing
Beneath the freshening wind.
Though the same wind now blows around,
You would its blast recall;
For every breath that stirs the trees,
Doth cause a leaf to fall.

Yes! Browning takes us back to the place we’ve been during the summer and says to tarry there again. She acknowledges we often remember and compare our experience now with what we had before. Reading through the remaining stanzas, Browning compares the changes in the wind and woods as symbolic of the transitions in our lives, and gives us a way to move on. (I hope you’ll hang on for the end.)

Oh! Like that wind, is all the mirth
That flesh and dust impart:
We cannot bear its visitings,
When change is on the heart.
Gay words and jests may make us smile,
When Sorrow is asleep;
But other things must make us smile,
When Sorrow bids us weep!

The dearest hands that clasp our hands, —
Their presence may be o’er;
The dearest voice that meets our ear,
That tone may come no more!
Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,
Which once refresh’d our mind,
Shall come — as, on those sighing woods,
The chilling autumn wind.

Hear not the wind — view not the woods;
Look out o’er vale and hill —
In spring, the sky encircled them —
The sky is round them still.
Come autumn’s scathe — come winter’s cold —
Come change — and human fate!
Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,
Can ne’er be desolate.

Here in the last stanza Browning tells us once we’ve acknowledged those things that grieve us in life’s transitions, we can now change our focus. She tells us to “look out.” We’re exhorted to redirect our focus over the valleys and hills to the sky that encircles. The sky’s still there just as it was before! The scathe of the season, the harshness we see and feel, that sense of being out of control — Heaven is still over all!

Oh reader, God is still with us! In these seemingly desolate times as we grieve so many changes and long for what was, let us lift our eyes to Heaven’s throne. For “The Lord has established His throne in the Heavens, and His kingdom rules over all (Psalm 103:19).” There is nothing He does not rule over! There is no time He does not rule over (Psalm 31:15). Nations and kings are in His hands (Psalm 47:8-9). He is almighty (Deuteronomy 10:17), and nothing is difficult for Him (Jeremiah 32:27). The Lord is able to deliver (2 Kings 17:39) and preserves all who love Him (John 10:29). He is able to do exceedingly abundantly more than we ask or think (Ephesians 3:20).

“Oh Lord, we lift our eyes to the hills, but our help comes from You, maker of Heaven and earth. You will not allow our foot to slip, for You are our keeper; You preserve our going out and coming in – even our souls! Close the door of our minds to questions about Your sovereignty or Your good and kind intentions. For You are righteous in all Your ways and gracious in all Your works. You are trustworthy, performing all that You have promised. Keep us O Lord, I pray.”*

If you are on this journey of faith with the One true God, go, sit again where you’ve been with Him before. Meditate on His promises and seek Him. Fan the flame of your hope (Psalm 62:5). He does restore our souls (Psalm 23:3)! With each reminder of who He is, be thrilled all over again. Be encouraged that he has enabled you to persevere. Delight in who He wants to be for you in this season. Tell about Him and all His wonders (Psalm 9:1-2)!

This prayer includes verses from Psalm 121 and 145. Other Psalms I’ve found very helpful in times of transition are Psalm 103 and 116. In each of these the Psalmist is speaking to his own soul. He defeats discouragement and unbelief by remembering the truth about God’s nature and His kind intentions.
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Posts Tagged with Transitions

Come Close

Autumn Meditation