I form light and create darkness,
I make weal and create woe;
I the Lord do all these things.
I’d come to the place where I knew that God was the Sovereign – the mighty protector and holy giver of destiny. But now there comes the life of moving nowhere. I’d learned that God’s blessings are given in his own deep other-worldly timing. So, it wasn’t the loss of anything that became real, though there had been loss and wounds and healing and love. And there will be more.
That wasn’t the deal. There was a vastness to it. A wide and long sort-of lush desert. I was living within it. Above, below, behind, before, right, and left – a space. My counselor called it “the liminal”, the in-between. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it is. It feels like a dance floor with no one on it.
When I was a girl, I used to go to the indoor basketball court in our church and lay down right in the middle of it. The floor was cool, the space was large and dark – lush with nothing. No one was playing or present at all. But it felt like healing. I’m not sure I knew the name for the feeling then.
Now I do. I know because I’ve marched through unhealth and church wounds. Now I know what healing feels like. And it’s like laying in the middle of a basketball court in the dark. An allowing of the empty so Something larger can be present. Or Someone.
It’s a sense of the holy milling quietly and gently in the soul – a non-forceful but working entity reminding of love and grace and fullness.
But that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s after that. Well, maybe there’s no “it”, but it’s after.
They’d always said that ministry was and is and should be me acting with God for his purposes. Maybe they are right. But that means there’s an “it” hiding somewhere in the after. But I haven’t found it – “it.” There’s a kind-of God given confusion. Can that even be a thing? It doesn’t sound quite right theologically and my education is pushing it away like a cup of spoiled milk.
Most of the time, we think of confusion as a bad thing – or maybe I just do. We think knowing is key. But here’s the deal, God is the only All-Knower. So, when the holy descends, I can’t and will never understand it all. It brings with it the unknown lapping over the soul like a kind but rushing river. I swim gleefully and carefully within it because it is both a comfort and a challenge. It’s an expansive feeling – a lostness in the Known without knowing. It’s a feeling of goodness beyond myself, beyond my need and want. It’s a joining to the Immense.
And because of that, it is a confusion. And because of That, it is holy.
Jessica Fleck, New City Stories Contributor