Bare

The other day, God told me to get nekkid.

Just kidding. Well, sort of.

I’m doing this book called Enjoy the Silence, which is teaching a Bible study practice called lectio divina. It’s a practice that monks often use, and it’s been a good book so far. I’ve been hearing God more in my quiet times.

The other day the passage was Exodus 3:1-6:

Now Moses was tending the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian, and he led the flock to the far side of the wilderness and came to Horeb, the mountain of God.

There the angel of the LORD appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush. Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up.

So Moses thought, “I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up.”

When the LORD saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush,
“Moses! Moses!” And Moses said, “Here I am.”

“Do not come any closer,” God said. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are stand-
ing is holy ground.”

Then he said, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob.” At this, Moses hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God. (TNIV)

What struck me was verse five, when God tells Moses to take off his sandals. He didn’t want him to have anything manmade on him, nothing crafted by man’s hands, because the ground was holy.

Holy ground required just bare skin. Just himself.

That’s when I really felt naked. God wants me bare before Him. None of the stuff I’ve made for myself, none of the attitudes and accomplishments that make up the things around me. Just me. The girl I really am.

My life is not pretty, but He wants me bare when I come before Him. He really wants to see just me.

This, I think, is true prayer—when I’m completely, utterly, only myself before God. This is when He can speak to me, because both He and I can see me for who I really am.

The next time you pray, be bold. Be bare. Be nekkid.

Just don’t post pictures. ;)

People Can Be So Interesting

I was just taking care of mundane business. We had lots of forms to fill out before Luke went off to college, and one of them involved his health history, insurance, etc. I had to verify that our policy would fully cover him once he moved out of state. If not, Wheaton required that he purchase insurance from them, which was a $600/year expense I preferred to avoid. So I called Blue Cross and Blue Shield. I explained what I needed to know, and the woman brought up our account on her computer.

"Oh," she said, "Your children were born the same years as mine."

"Congratulations," I responded, and we both laughed. Then I added, "I guess you're in college mode, too."

"Well, actually, no . . ."

I listened as she chatted in her mid-western-don'tcha-know accent about what was going on with her kids, the whole while feeling a little amused and surprised that this woman was so eager to share her life with me. By the end I knew that she lived in Illinois, her 20-year-old son was engaged, her 17-year-old daughter (Tracey) would be a high-school senior in the fall and was a little concerned, because she'd signed up for Spanish, but her favorite teacher was leaving, and now she wasn't sure she would like it, and then after graduation, she planned to go to a college about an hour away from home to become an elementary ed major, but was having second thoughts, because she helped raise her little brother, who was only seven, and when Tracey recently took the snacks to his school for his birthday celebration, she realized how hard it would be to leave him in a year . . .

I threw in the occasional observation when she seemed to want it. Mostly I just enjoyed her accent and allowed myself to chill for a while till she finished her tale. I also answered all her questions about my kids, what they planned to study, what they wanted to do with their lives. I did eventually get all the info I needed about our insurance. Luke would be covered. So that was nice.

As I was about to hang up, she encouraged me to call her (like I can determine who answers my call after navigating all the voice mail options?) if I needed anything else. We parted friends. Or at least it sure felt that way.

I hung up feeling kind of happy about the fact that friendliness exists everywhere, that not all people are cold or cynical or suspicious. Some folks just want to find the something--anything--in common and connect with another human for a while. Even if that human is just the voice of a stranger on the other end of the phone.

Let's live with our eyes and ears open. Friends may show up where we least expect them, don'tcha know!