“You’re not struggling to hear me, So I’m not striving to be heard
I am sure the One who made me, Is catching every word
When You’re this close, I rest my soul
It’s effortless, When You’re this close”
—”This Close,” by Steffany Gretzinger
The bridge of this worship song by Steffany Gretzinger hit me a few days ago as I listened in the car. “Hold my face if I should wander, if my thoughts are far from home. If my faith is going under, remind me I am known.”
It all started with a prayer I was praying.
“God, show me what the next step is. What do you want for me? What do I do next?”
I tend toward an attitude of figuring, planning, searching…all in the name of becoming what God wants me to be. I have handed it over and picked it back up numerous times over the past several years as I have been learning to surrender control and trust God. In Celebrate Recovery, there’s a saying that summarizes the first 3 of the 12 steps: “I can’t, He can, and I’m going to let Him.” I have to remind myself of this when I start feeling frazzled and like I have too much to do—when I’ve picked up what is not mine to carry.
“What do you want for me? What do I do next?”
In my pursuit of God, I can get wrapped up in what’s next. My desire for earning, my seeking to grow emotionally and spiritually, and a desire for validation that can creep in can all be used by the enemy to keep me always looking ahead instead of resting in what God has already done.
It was from this place that my prayer came.
The answer I sensed in reply was, “Learn from Me. Let me show you.” My mind immediately said, “How do I do that?! What does that look like?” Old habits die hard, huh?
Then I remembered Mary, sitting at the feet of Jesus. Mary who learned from Jesus, who anointed Jesus. Mary, who kept her eyes on what—who—mattered most. She wasn’t fixated on what those around her saw in her, or what they could teach her, or whether they approved of her or not.
I felt led to study Jesus in the book of John. There I learned to rest. Along the way, God would show me if there was something that needed further digging, but above all I just needed to take a deep breath and let Him lead.
“Then I remembered Mary, sitting at the feet of Jesus.”
As the weeks have passed, through a church-wide 21-day fast and beyond, I have found myself sitting and asking God questions as they arise. Talking with Him about feelings and perceptions and things I notice in myself. Along with seeing Jesus anew as I read through John, I keep being led back to Mary, to slowing down, to resting in Him and cultivating a willing spirit of learning from Him.
Another eye-opening moment in recent weeks came while reading a book by Joanna Weaver called Having a Mary Spirit. In a particular chapter, she writes about the mother of Jesus and states,
“I want to be able to say yes to the Lord without asking why and where and how. It is one thing to want God’s will and quite another to do it. That’s why I keep returning to King David’s prayer in Psalm 51: ‘Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.’ A willing spirit—that’s what I need. . . . Our job is to simply say yes to whatever specific tasks He sets before us. Obeying then simply believing that God will do what He says He will do. Even when it doesn’t seem to make sense.”
I have been learning that, as I bring Jesus closer and walk with Him instead of running ahead, I can see more clearly. I can breathe more deeply. I can rest more firmly in the promises. I have learned there is no timeline I need to have figured out—for me, my family, my life. I don’t have to know what’s next, I don’t have to get it right, I don’t have to do any certain things right now or ever if they are not what God has planned for me.
“I have been learning that, as I bring Jesus closer and walk with Him instead of running ahead, I can see more clearly. I can breathe more deeply. I can rest more firmly in the promises.”
When my thoughts wander, when pride rears its head, when the enemy creeps in to chip away at my faith, I can see the image of God “holding my face” like a Father gently taking my chin and turning my face back to look at Him, at His Son, and reminding me who I am, that I am known and loved.
