Divine Prompting

A big guiding word for me over these recent years has been "Pay Attention."  I have not always been good at doing this and even now with ample years of being told over and over, I still find myself ignoring a lifestyle which I know has been chosen for me.  Another word which is often used for the same discipline is "Mindfulness."  Both words carry us to the same place.  And since mine has been with me now for a long time, I will stick with it.    

Recently, I have come to understand that paying attention is not just about the external things, or the people who show up in my path, but that it relates to what is internal as well.  This is to say it is important to pay attention to what is going on in the spirit which is a part of each one of us.  The inner spirit is where we are told the Spirit of Christ abides and it is where the Holy Spirit seeks to shape our inner being so that it more clearly points others to this Jesus who has called us.  Anyone wanting a refresher course on the work of the Holy Spirit in the heart of the believer can start reading the 14th chapter of John and will find important words of teaching in the next few chapters.    

In verse 26 of that 14th chapter we hear Jesus saying, ...the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you."  We need to pay attention to all that is appearing in the present moment of our life, but we need to also pay attention to the direction of the Spirit which emanates from within.  We need to pay attention to the prompting of the Holy Spirit.  It is not our knowledge of the way of Jesus, or our determined discipline which keeps us walking in the right way, but the Holy Spirit is constantly offering direction and course corrections as we go.  

The Next Time

"Lord, I know I let you down today.  Like Peter in the courtyard, I let you down.  I came out of that food place and saw their Florida tags right away.  She was wrestling a young boy out of a back seat car seat and he was walking the dog.  Both appeared ragged and worn.  "I guess ya'll are getting away from the hurricane," I said.  They told me they lived in Ft. Myers and were going to their family up near Augusta.  But, Lord, You know all this.  And, You know what I did and didn't do as well.  I said the usual caring words.  I did the minimum.  I should have asked for permission to pray for them there in the parking lot.  I should have walked in the eatery with then and paid for their meal.  What I should have done is not what I did, Lord.  I know I let you down.  I could have been your heart in that place and I was not paying attention.  I was in a hurry for some reason.  I did pray for them during the day after we parted ways as You know, but I could have done so much more to let them know I cared about what was happening to them.  Maybe I don't care enough.  Anyway, Lord, I messed up today.  I could ask for another moment to do different.  I could promise to do differently next time.  And maybe I would.  But, then You know me.  Maybe I would do the same thing again.  I hope not, but I know me and I know You know me.  Forgive me, Lord.  Keep hanging in there with me.  Keep sending strangers and people in need my way.  Maybe I will get it right next time.  Amen."

Truly Blessed

When I left the St. John Church in the midst of one of Columbus' growing neighborhoods, my folks felt sorry for me that I was being assigned to a small town known only as a place where "they grow onions."  To be truthful I had my eyes on what I thought would have been a better appointment, but the Bishop put me down for Vidalia anyway.  As it turned out, that small town where they grew onions turned out to be one of my best assignments in my ministerial career.    

Going to the country from the city is not necessarily a bad thing even if some of my folks back then thought of it like punishment.   And now, having lived on a small farm on the edge of a town with one caution light for twelve years, I know that I have been blessed beyond measure.  I felt it all over again tonight as I stood on the front porch bathed in what was one of the most radiant and glorious sunsets in the history of sunsets.  

Had I been in the city, there would have been artificial lighting, buildings which obstruct a panoramic view, and the likelihood that I would have been too busy to see.  But, being here in the middle of nowhere, even farther from civilization than the place where they grow onions, is like living every moment inside a great majestic cathedral.   I have learned over these years on the farm that heaven's glory is only a glance away, that every sound in the air might be filled with the voice of the Holy, and that every common bush is indeed afire with God.  I am grateful for my place in the country.  I am truly blessed.

The Transforming Power

Biblical scholars make all kinds of comparisons between Moses and the Torah and Matthew and the gospel he wrote.  Some say that Matthew had Moses in view when he wrote his version of the gospel to a Hebrew audience.  The Torah consists of five books and Matthew's gospel is easily divided into five major sections.  There is Moses with the Ten Commandments and Jesus with the Sermon on the Mount.  And while I lack the scholarly credentials of the authorities on the Bible, it is rather obvious that regarding the Sermon on the Mount as a rendering of religious law is not a wise thing to do.   The Ten Commandments is something framed by words such as "ought..should...must"   

The law Moses wrote is centered on external behavior while the Sermon on the Mount is about choices of the heart.  And even then, it is not about choices which can be made within the framework of our determination.  The Sermon preached by Jesus is not so much about what is seen as it is about what is unseen.  The Sermon on the Mount is an impossible word unless our life has been transformed and placed under the absolute authority of the Holy Spirit.  I may choose not to steal from my neighbor, but choosing not to desire what is not mine is another matter.  

The Sermon calls us to an involuntary response which is only possible when the inner core of the soul only issues what is consistent with the Spirit of Christ.  We are not able to make such a radical choice.  Only the power of the Holy Spirit has such transforming power that our our outward life naturally and spontaneously reflects the core changes of the soul.  

Memory and Hope

As memory connects us to what is behind, so does hope connect us to what is ahead.  And in between, we stand in the present.  But, it is a fleeting present.  The hard stone cold hyphen which is etched on the tombstone between the date of birth and the date of death is a mark of compilation of all the present moments that have passed.  The moment between memory and hope is a much more transient moment as it always move from one second to another.  By the time the second hand on the clock has ticked, the present has changed sending another part of our life into memory and moving us deeper into our hope.    

The Word of God speaks much of memory and hope.  The Hebrews were instructed to observe rituals that enabled them to remember their story of deliverance even as the Jesus people who came later were told to remember a holy meal.  And even as the Holy Meal calls us to remember, so does it call to live with hope.  So we live if we live at all.  We cannot really live without the hope of Home which draws us ever forward on the journey of faith.  We are here in the present moment as fleeting as it is, but we are always moving toward what is ahead with hope of the welcoming Christ.   

Memory grounds us and hope carries us forward.  We shall not be overcome by the weight of any memory, or the pain of any present affliction because our hope is not in getting through difficult moments, but in prevailing against them as one who shall be victorious even as Christ was victorious in bringing evil to its knees in defeat and overcoming the darkness of death through the emptiness of the tomb.  Our hope is not in things.  It is not in our own strength.  It is not in our ability get up when knocked down.  Our hope is in Christ.  It is in His open arms.  

Suddenly Here

 As Abraham was sitting at the entrance to his tent, "He looked up and saw three men standing near him."  (Genesis 18:1-2)  Mysterious men.  Later in the story which unfolds, they are described as angels.  Not there and then there were these men.  At a critical moment Gabriel came to Daniel.  From the invisible realm came this one to give aid to a man who had been pleading with God in prayer.  A mysterious appearance.  And then, there are other mysterious appearances from the realm of the invisible as was experienced by Elizabeth, Mary and Joseph, Jesus, Peter, James, and John, and the Apostle Paul.    

Of course, the most mysterious appearance of one coming from the invisible realm into the visible took place in Bethlehem.  The Apostle Paul wrote of this man of Bethlehem with words such as, "...who though He was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied Himself...being born in human likeness."  (Philippians 2:6-7).  The One who had always been unseen became the One seen by those who shared that span of time on earth with Him.  Always it seems that the veil between here and there has been a thin veil and those who are there at times have made their presence known here in mysterious ways.    

Could it be we truly do live in such a world?  Are we really so separated in this visible world from the invisible world which speaks of eternity that there are no transcendent moments of holy presence and awareness?  Could it be that the reasons we are so quick to respond in a way that speaks of absolute separation has more more to do with our being too busy to see, to occupied to hear, and so scattered we cannot pay attention to what is really happening around us?  Is every common bush really afire with God, or do we simply repeat lines of meaningless poetry?

Alike but Different

As the day was drawing to a close and sending its last lights across the sky, I paused in my journey from here to there to stand in awe at the glory being unleashed in the western sky.  While every evening has its own unique glory, the sense of awe was amplified as it came to me that no one on earth was seeing what I was seeing from my vantage point here at the farm.  This is not to say that people throughout the countryside were not standing in awe at the evening beauty, instead, it is to say that no one could see it exactly as God was revealing it to me.    

This does not make me special.  It actually affirms the opposite.  What made it possible for me to see what no one else could see was the place God had put me in the moment of beholding His glory in the heavens.  I was amazed at what I was seeing and then even more amazed that no one else could see what I was seeing exactly as I was seeing it.  They would have had to stand in my shoes to see what I was seeing and even then a difference in height or stature would change the view.  It is not something that happens special here, but everywhere for each one of us is blessed with a view of the glory that is unique to the place and moment we stand.    

Surely, it is a reminder to us that each one of us beholds the glory of God as He reveals Himself to us in a different way and surely it is a reminder that the way His voice is heard in the air around us is a unique part of the relationship we have with Him.  There may be times we wish that someone could hear or see the revealed presence of God as we do, but it can never be.  He has not only put us in a unique spot in the creation, but He has also blessed us with a soul that experiences our life with Him in a way different from any other soul brought into being by the blessing of His hand.

What Matters

There have been more than a few times when we have gone to a funeral service, listened to the preacher talk about the one who had died, and wondered if we had arrived at the wrong funeral.  Most of us look a lot better than we are after we are dead.  Perhaps, it is an odd place to stay too long while reading the Scripture, but I found myself reading about the death and burial of Moses a few days ago.  It shows up at the end of the book of Deuteronomy.  As we consider the obituaries we often read, it is an unusual summation of a life well lived.     Verse seven of that chapter says, "Moses was one hundred twenty years old when he died; his sight was unimpaired and his vigor had not abated."  And with a word about his burial it is done.  

Think of all the things which could have been written.  No more powerful man ever lived.  No one ever did more to bring about massive social change than Moses.  His contribution to the Hebrew culture of his day and throughout the generations cannot be measured.  Yet, nothing is mentioned.  He died.  He died in the presence of the Lord he served and with His words in his ears.  (vs. 4-5)   There are many things we think are true and certain.  One of those things is that we will all die.  There will be no exemptions.  

And when that moment comes no one will be taking the certificates of achievement off the wall so that we can see them again and no one will run to the bank so we can hear a most update financial statement.  We will not care.  It will not matter.  What might matter to most of us is that our ending is more like the ending of Moses who died with the words of the Lord in his ears.  To live in a life of relationship with God through the years He gives to us and to come to the end with the assurance that what has been experienced in this life will be continued as the journey carries us into our heavenly home will be the thing which matters.  

The Foundation Stone

The danger in reading is finding something which cannot be left on a page already read.  Some words seem to call us back even though pages are being flipped to take us toward the end.  G.K. Chesterton who died in 1936 did such a thing in his book entitled, "Saint Francis of Assisi."  As he wrote about that moment in the life of St. Francis when he heard God's voice telling him to rebuild a church, Chesterton says, "He (St. Francis) was truly building up something else, or beginning to build it up; something that has often fallen into ruins but has never been past rebuilding:  a church that could always be built anew though it had rotted away to its first foundation-stone, against which the gates of hell shall not prevail."  

The author could have been talking about the church of his day, he could have been talking about the church at the time of St. Francis, or he could be talking about the church as we know it in some places today.  As one ordained in the United Methodist Church, I see the church which has nurtured me since before I began the spiritual journey seemingly falling apart and lying in ruins.  While some may differ by declaring that it will rise up stronger, there are more than a few of us who disagree.  It is a sad and troubling thing to see a church which has meant so much coming apart at the seams.    

But, Chesterton reminds us that the institution through which the church expresses itself might end up in ruins, but not the church.  The spiritual community established through the Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit shall prevail in some form.  It may not be a form we will recognize, but the church will prevail.  The structure may collapse, but not the foundation stone, not the cornerstone.  (Ephesians 2:20)

Evening Stillness

 All around it hung,

   visible yet not seen, 

     the evening coming, 

       the stillness settling.

Sitting and waiting, 

   knowing, but not yet,

     everywhere in the air, 

        everywhere, even here.

The blessed stillness

   poured into my soul

     like crashing waters

       taking what is away.  

A Personal Affirmation

Those of us who were fortunate enough and blessed by the opportunity to attend worship every Sunday while growing up learned some things which got put in the deep places of our mind.  Some parents today find themselves returning to a church that they had all but forgotten as young adults because they wanted their children to learn things of the traditional ritual such as the Gloria Patri, the Lord's Prayer, and the Affirmation of Faith.  And so, there they sit Sunday after Sunday with the books open and finger guiding the eyes of the young children beside them as another generation learns some of the sacred stuff.    

And while few of us would be able to write something as powerful and so concise as the Affirmation of Faith, it might be a good thing for us to include some time in our personal moments with the Father in Heaven to slowly pen our own expression of faith.  If we were writing our own Affirmation of Faith, how would it look?  What words would we use?  Would it be free of what we have learned?  Would it reflect the core beliefs which have come to be a part of our spiritual journey?     Maybe it is something most of us have not given much thought.  

Maybe we are content and comfortable with what we learned as we followed our mother's finger on the page which contained the ritual.  Or, just maybe, it might be time for us to do this very thing.  Maybe it is time we wrote on our Affirmation of Faith.  Maybe it is time for us to write down on a piece of paper what we actually believe to the point that we are willing to build our life around it.  Maybe it is time.  

Hen Lessons

Five hens share the farm with us, the eleven cows, and the many unseen critters that roam about.  As I often say to those who come to wander around, "Remember this is the country, be aware of where you are going."  There  is always the possibility of a snake in the tall grass, or on occasions an armadillo has been seen rooting around in the dirt, and of course, there are opossums playing possum, and way too many deer afoot.  

The five hens not only live here, but they also contribute to life here by laying eggs.  They form their own small community that is centered around a fenced enclosed hen house and yard.  In the evenings the gate is open and they are free to roam and scratch.  But, as darkness begins to settle on the land, they instinctively go back to the enclosed yard, go inside the house, and get perched on the roost.  About the same time I make one more trip to the hen house and close the gate giving them protection during the night from any critter that might want a late night chicken dinner.    

I do everything I can to provide them a safe place, make sure they have plenty of food and water, and let them know as I gather the eggs that I appreciate what they do.  It is a good thing to have someone to watch over us.  Every day I am aware that wherever I go, I go inside the care and protection of the Father in heaven who watches over me, cares for me, provides what I need, and offers the encouraging word.  The Word assures us that the Father in heaven is concerned about the tiny sparrow and so the hens of the world as well and, therefore, He is surely looking out after each one of us.  In the harrowing moments when harm comes dangerously close it is easy to see, but what is true then remains true even in moments as ordinary as those when the hens go scratching in the late evening when the sun is slipping away.  

Awards and Recognition

I received two awards in the mail today.  The first was a key ring from Weight Watcher given to me because I had lost five pounds.  I feel a bit guilty about all this since I have gained back two of the five pounds I lost.  Instead of sending it back, I will keep it in a drawer until I lose those two pounds again.  The second came from Emory University telling me on thick white parchment paper suitable for framing that I had been inducted into The Society of Corpus Cordis Aureum.  Since I spent two years in Mrs. Thomas' high school Latin class, I remembered that "corpus" had something to do with the body, but after that I was lost.  It seems that this induction is granted to those who graduated fifty years or more from Emory University which I managed to do with my Master of Divinity Degree.    

So, I received one award that I really have not earned and another for staying alive for fifty years which has the feeling of a life participation award.  Of course, all of us like to be recognized.  We take what we can get.  I used to have a few certificates of recognition hanging on my office wall, but I retired them when I retired.  They are stored with books I no longer have room to shelve.  While they are nice to receive, it is always good to keep them in perspective.    

The induction into The Society of Corpus Cordis Aureum made me remember the many colleagues and friends who were not blessed with the three score and ten years plus a few that I have counted.  Too many left too early.  I have been blessed with years beyond theirs and I often wonder why I am here and they are gone.  But, like everyone I hang onto every day with gratitude.  One day I hope for a final award which will come not with white parchment paper and one I will certainly not deserve, but one that will be given with the words, "Well done, good and faithful servant,.."  (Matthew 25:21).  At the end of the journey, it will be more than enough and such a grace filled blessing.

Cold Sweet Potatoes

Lately, I find myself visiting what seemed to be forgotten memories, but not so forgotten they cannot be remembered.  Perhaps, what is needed to bring old memories to mind are the things other than the memory.  The other night in a distant town I listened to a freight train crawling through town and remembered those days of my boyhood when the nights were filled with the sounds of box cars being jerked to and fro by a slow moving train,  And, then, this afternoon's sudden shower which soaked me to the core brought back nights when I used to go out in the night to walk in the rain at Young Harris College.   

For some reason these days have been days of remembering things like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in a brown lunch bag on the way to school, or cold sweet potatoes with a hunk of butter that had no intention of melting, and putting on my first basketball jersey for a team.  Of course, not all the days were filled with good memories.  There were difficult days that left me with painful memories.  Standing at the grave of my father when I was seven years old is one that has never been forgotten and even after all these years can touch a deep place in a surprising and unexpected way.  And some of the church battles fought over things mostly forgotten inflicted some scars that made healing and forgiveness hard, but fortunately, not impossible.     

Surely, one of the gracious gifts God has given us is the ability to remember.  And not only is the ability to remember a blessing, but there is also blessing in the way that things stored away in forgotten places are suddenly prompted to come forth to be known again by the conscious present part of us.  I am grateful for the memories, the people and experiences which were a  part of them, and the way God has of using them to warm my spirit and encourage my soul for the part of the journey which is still to be walked.

The Testimony Prompter

Back in the day when I was leading worship one Sunday after another, I would with some regularity provide moments for personal sharing from the congregation.  It was something which seemed to fit in with the informality of Sunday evening worship and I am sure was a carryover from my days of growing up in small rural churches where Sunday evening worship often included a testimony time.  One of the things which frequently happened in such moments was the same people getting up and sharing the same thing they did the last time such a moment was offered.     

It always seemed that there should be some freshness to what we were sharing about our faith in Christ so I started inviting people to share in response to the question, "Where is it that you have experienced Christ since we last gathered?   I thought it was a good question to enable people to be more current in their sharing.   And while I have no regrets about offering such moments for personal sharing, I am no longer so sure that my testimony prompter was such a good one.    

The reason is simple.  The question suggests that God is to be experienced every now and again in the ordinary moments of our life.  It caused people to search their memory for something that might be appropriate to share.  It did not really encourage people to think about the reality that God is constantly making Himself known to us and that there is not a day in which such does not happen.  Maybe the hesitation to share came from not being able to filter out some single thing from the many, many ways God in Christ was experienced since the last gathering.  One thing is certain.  Were it mine to do today, I would find another way to phrase this testimony prompter.  

   

Another Re-read

I started another one of my many re-reads in the last few days.  Some folks are deeply opposed to reading a book a second time.  Me?  Some I keep on the shelves and have read more times than I can count.  As far as I am concerned they are so good, I cannot get it all in one, or two, or three reads.  Of course, such is the case for any self-professing slow learner.  If I ever write a book, I hope it will be one that readers just have to read a second time!  The book I picked for this second read is "New Seeds of Contemplation" by Thomas Merton.  

I know why I never bothered to read this book years ago.  I was too busy.  I was too much in a hurry to get somewhere at which I do not think I ever arrived.  The word "contemplation" belonged in a monastery, not in a busy parish where God's business was getting done on the clock.  And then, back then Thomas Merton did not seem to have anything to say to me.  If he had written a book about growing a successful church, I would have had one in my hands, but for too long I was too busy to see any value in silence and stillness and struggling with the invisible internal stuff of the spiritual life.   

None of this is meant to pass judgment on anyone else.  It is simply a means of offering a confessional.  Others who worked in the larger growing churches may have managed to stay on track in their inner life with God, but I fear that I was not as adept at juggling the balls of being busy and being still.  Being busy felt better.  It felt too good.  And now as I read the words of Merton again, I find the spiritual hunger gnawing away at my insides again.  Maybe this time, I will chew on what the Spirit is seeking to reveal a little longer.   

Quartet Memories

Back in the church era when doors remained unlocked during the week, I was racing through high school  and figuring on being a gospel quartet singer.  Well,perhaps, I exaggerate.  The guys with whom I tended to hang out often went to the church and in the manner of the Blackwood Brothers sang old gospel songs.  One of our group was a musician and played the organ on Sunday Morning so we were fixed to become famous.  All we needed were good voices.   

Alas, we never made the status of the traveling quartet groups, but we had a good time and it helped us stay out of trouble.  One of the songs we would often sing had a chorus which had the words, "Many things about tomorrow I don't seem to understand, but I know who holds tomorrow, and I know who holds my hand."  I am grateful for the influence of those friends, appreciative of the way the songs took root in my life, and the way that even today, the memory of those songs provide help in difficult days.    Some things are worth remembering.  

The words of this gospel song are worth remembering.  It is a good reminder for all of us since we all run into moments when it seems that life is racing out of control and about to crash.  But, what we can know is that God sees ahead, cares about us as we go, and is always close at hand.  He is not God who is somewhere out there, but One who stays close enough to hold our hand.  

An Evening Sighting

 The sun had long since slipped away, 

     the evening, enveloped by stillness

        is where I stood in silence, 

          listening, watching, waiting.

Across the way I heard the stirring, 

      first here and then there, 

        never still, always moving,

          an evening walk in Eden.

Some listened and quickly knew,

     'tis just a bird, a hooting owl,

        others with ears to hear,

          knew more was out there.

Up and down the run of the branch,

     the Invisible One now heard, 

       no mere winged creature,

         the Holy One is with us. 

Memory and Hope

Today is one of those days for looking back and ahead.  I look back for the memories and ahead for the hope.  It is a day many of us have noted with the passing of the years.  It is the day remembered in our family as the birthday of my mother who died during the worst of the covid pandemic.  Had she survived the last battle, she would be at her 90th birthday party today.     

When God gave us the gift of memory, He blessed us in a way that life in the past is lived again.  Of course, not all of our memories are good.  Some are painful and some we try to forget, but mixed in with the living of life are those which bring smiles to our faces and warmth to our hearts.  I am grateful for the mother God gave to me and the memories of her constant faith in me and her everlasting hope for me.  Today I remember the struggles which were a part of her life and the way she stood tall midst them, pressing on despite them, and refusing to let them define her or those who who were caught up in them with her.    

And, I am also grateful, deeply grateful, for hope that is a part of the present and the future.  Though not with us, she is with the Father in heaven and with those who are known as the great cloud of witnesses in the heavenly place.  In that eternal world she lives in the presence of others like her parents, brothers and sisters, and my father.  I do not completely understand the image of the heavenly witnesses, but it must be a joyous life giving gathering.  And, as she now dwells in that heavenly place, my hope is as yours and that is that one day when the journey here is done such a gathering awaits us on the other side.

The Hardest Thing to Give

It often seems that the hardest thing for us to give to our Father God is the one thing with which we are most abundantly blessed.   Every day we receive the same amount of it.  We receive the same amount whether we are rich, or poor.  He takes no account of the size of our pocket books, or the affluence of the neighborhood.  When we are laid in our grave it can be said of each one of us that we received from God twenty-four hours every day of our life.  Time is the hardest thing for us to give to God our Father.     

We are so blessed with it; yet, we offer it to Him as a gift in such a careless manner.  We may give to God the first fruits of our income, the Biblical ten percent, but we mostly give to God the leftovers when it comes to giving time to Him.  And, as we know, time is a most important thing to give freely in any relationship.  Our relationships with family suffer when we allow other things outside of the home to dominate our use of the time which is ours.  Too many children grow up wondering who the man and woman are that show up in the house at the end of the day.     

Maintaining a relationship with God is the most important thing we can do in this life.  What it requires is some of the time He has given to us.  We seldom think that He blesses us with time for this reason.  We are more prone to think that He gives it to us so we will have time to earn a living.  And while there is some truth in such a thought, it is also true that making a living cannot be the definition of our life.  If it is, we have wasted our trips around the sun.  He blesses us with plenty of time.  He blesses us with enough that there is enough to grow in our relationship with Him and still have enough left over for other important things in our life.

The Dance

While most of the folks I know probably cannot imagine me dancing, there was a time when I would cut a rug every now and again.  It was something I learned to do, or tried to do when I went to Young Harris College up in the north Georgia mountains.  Back then there was not much to do at Young Harris.  There was a motel with a restaurant which welcomed us in during the evening hours for coffee and an ice cream dispensary that had a pinball machine.  Entertainment was scarce; thus, the dancing at the occasional Saturday night college sponsored events.      

The truth is there was not much to dancing in those days.  Move a little or a lot and it was dancing.  But, even then with such a loose definition of what it meant to dance, I was a lousy dancer.  I always felt like I was out of sync.  Others seemed to hear a beat which was a mystery to me.  I moved about, waved my arms, and looked like someone who knew what to do, but it was something which never really gave me a comfortable "this is me" feeling.     

Sometimes this is exactly how we feel in our spiritual lives.  It does not happen all of a sudden, but we suddenly realize that we have gotten out of sync with the plan and purpose of the One who is our partner in this journey toward Home.  We no longer hear the beat of the Word.  We move about as one who knows what to do, how to do it, and when to do it, but deep within our spirit, we sense that something is wrong.  And, as we allow ourselves some moments of getting to know ourselves again, we come to know that our life has gotten out of step.  There is no longer any matching strides with the One who called us.  Fortunately, He is watching.  He knows.  And, He pauses and leads us to the place of the heart where we can once again right a life that is prone to stray and walk around out of sync with the holy purpose He has for us.