Abide.

I’ve prayed and pondered and landed on this to be my focus word for 2020, a compass to navigate my way.

Nine days in and I already find myself stumbling and unsure of my bearings.

I breathe in deeply and look around, trying to find God.  

“Where are You?”

I think to myself, 

“I need to reconnect to the Vine and abide! Then I’ll find Him.”

And then I see it!  Abiding is not walked out in a repetitive course of connecting to the vine for a while, and later finding myself needing to come back to it.

Abiding is staying there in the first place!

Not disconnecting and returning.

Not in and out.

Not on and off.

Abiding is a constant, unbroken state of dwelling with God.

How do I travel this abiding life and still answer emails, do the laundry, shop and cook, drive my daughter to PT and doctor appointments?

How do I remain in an intangible realm while navigating a world of motorized pavement, dusty wood floors, harsh concrete sidewalks, crowded asphalt parking lots, cold linoleum store aisles, and aloof carpeted waiting rooms?

The pedestrian requirements of my daily life feel like they lead me away from the quiet contemplation of abiding.

Like a tug of war between two worlds.

I abide in solitude and silence, reflecting on God’s nature and love,

enjoying His presence - then I get up and leave it and step through an unseen curtain

into noise and demands, needs and busy.

Later, as weariness manifests or I want to hear God’s direction,

I realize I need to return to the place I left so I seek Him again,

craving the comfort of abiding.

As if I’m stitching myself, a bright little patch of cloth, into a quilt, then tearing myself out to go mop up a spill or try to warm someone cold - a silly notion considering I’m just a scrap of fabric - and then realizing my inadequacies, I return to stitch myself back into the Grand Quilt.

Immediately I know it’s where I fit.

Where I belong and where I make sense.

It is beauty and purpose and strength in this union of unbroken stitches and connectedness.

Not tearing apart to return later. 

Just staying.

Abiding is still, restful, not moving.

Or IS it?!

Is that the ONLY way to experience it?

Is there a mobile version of abiding?

One that stays attached, stitched in tight to the unchanging God, while traveling the globe of daily life freely and unencumbered in both realms?

An ambulatory abider?

A connected free agent?

A permanently dwelling sojourner?

A remaining rover?

It seems to fit the sometimes paradoxical Way of Jesus. His road is marked with sign posts telling me the way to love is to die.  The road to blessing is through being persecuted.  Those I encounter in my travels that are the least, are actually the greatest.  And to have everything, I should give away everything.  

Abiding is a mystery of unfathomable depths.  

Jesus is in me.  I am in Jesus.  

Which is it? 

It’s both.  

It’s fluid and solid. It’s moving and it’s still.

It’s me, the little bright patch sewn into the Quilt, and it’s the Quilt wrapped around me.

I unfold the map and look for a landmark.  Honestly, I just want to be sure I’m on the right trail!

I ask God, 

“Where are You?”

He answers with a question, (which is SO like Him!),

“Where are you?  That’s where I Am.”