overwhelmed

Today I was completely overawed with the presence of God.

As promised, I got up bright and early and finished exercises and domestic tasks so that I could spend my morning with God. Everything felt good. I was centered and balanced as I did my yoga—barely wobbling in the tree pose. I left the house by 8 and walked to the coffee shop. On the way I snapped photos. Ordinary, every-day objects radiated beauty, lit up by the morning sun and Something otherworldly. I was already in a state of worship as I found a comfy corner in the shop.

Also as promised, I simply sat quietly for the first moments as I sipped my coffee, trying to just place myself in God's presence, to enjoy His company without achieving or doing anything. And I actually met Him.

He was under the weeping willow tree. That circle of drooping leaves and serenity that I often picture in my mind's eye, cutting me off from the rest of the crazy world around me. And there was Jesus, waiting. I usually meet with Him, since I am flesh and He has a Body. My imagination can stretch no further. We sat and chatted a bit, my heart slowly filling with love. And then I could contain it no longer. My soul burst out in exuberant dance. In my mind I spun and leaped with every graceful and joyous move I have ever seen. To my surprise Jesus partnered with me in the dance, lifting me and guiding me to breath-taking heights of bliss and beauty.

It was then that I realized we were dancing for the Father. While He walked this earth, Jesus had consistently diverted praise and glory to His Father, and now we were dancing for God's pleasure. But His pleasure was ours as well, and the Spirit sang with joy.

Overwhelmed with emotion I then found myself back under the willow, weeping. I was crouched on my knees before Jesus, my forehead and my palms pressed to the grass. Silent sobs shook my soul. I struggled to stay outwardly calm in the crowded coffee shop, even as a few actual tears sneaked out of my eyelids and down my cheeks.

And I thought back to the morning's yoga routine. My video instructor had introduced "child's pose"—a posture much like the one I was mentally holding at Jesus' feet at that moment. The instructor said we should revert to child's pose any time the routine seemed too much for us. We could rest, regain composure, and then re-enter the flow of the exercises.

And then I realized that this must be what it means to abide in Him. To live in this attitude, this position—of childlike helplessness, trust, and abandon—at the feet of Jesus. To maintain this perspective throughout the minutes and hours of every day. Especially when things get to be too much. When I get overwhelmed. When my own strength fails. I must intentionally assume this posture of rest, submission and worship. Only then can I move through life as it flows around me—moving in His strength instead of my own.