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A full night in the sanctuary

I place myself in Your care, here in the sanctuary of Yourself. It is dark and stifling, sorrowful and lonely. When I sense the first layer of my anxiety go still, I also sense peace. It’s different than peace I’ve had in the past. It’s deep and cushioning and real, not brittle or half-hoped into existence. I can tell this peace exists as a Person. There is breadth and depth, width and height, and nothing can separate me here. Simply the act of focusing on the peace brings more stillness. I realize I will be here for a time. This is simply truth. I don’t even have a feeling about it.

It’s here, where I let myself go. I remember all of the shameful past. The conversations that turned deadly, the interactions that became humiliating, the gestures that were misunderstood. Worse. I see the sabotage I was intent upon, the endless victim pity-parties I organized, the deliberate choice to sin, and then to try and hide. It’s a lot to take in. It’s hard to relive and yet, somehow it’s necessary. Every blunder and blot has been cleansed and purified, put away and remembered no more. Why do I continue to live there in the past? Or is it the past coming to intrude here in the present?

The darkness grows blacker. I can hear the voice of an accuser join mine. It’s terrible. I can sense movement and action, but I lay here, forgotten and tired. How long will this continue? Do I need to go on? Can I just back out now, and limp along with partial awareness? Is it enough to simply say I tried? Even before the questions are fully formed, I know the answer. I must stay.

I am not afraid here. It’s painful, yes, but fear has been cast out. I can sense gentleness and tenderness. Hope and faith are growing. And the love, simply overwhelming. With each painful memory, love cascades through, and the scene is changed. What was meant for evil, God turned for good. He sees. He knows. He is carefully writing His story even now. I wait.

More and more memories. Images that haunt and make me uneasy. Times when I wasn’t enough. Other times when I was too much. Faces where I can see the disappointment. Conversations where I can taste the hatred. And still, something different. Something more in the remembering. It’s the appearance of a Savior. He is with me, and He is peace. There is nothing wasted here.

I’ve tried to put to words all the thoughts and feelings, and I sense the revelation is more in the knowing, which is by the experience informed by Truth. While my night in the sanctuary may be spent like this, it is for the full night, to be accomplished by His Spirit and His Truth, and I am willing. Once the night is complete, I will be different. It won’t be for anyone else to see or measure, but I will know, and so will He. I’ve been bold to ask for dreams and visions and He has answered. I am not disappointed. More and more the answer is Himself and not in the gifts, but His gifts are lavish and can be called evidences of His steadfast love.

When I came into the sanctuary, I was ready to give it all up, away. And it was a fitting sacrifice. What I didn’t count on was the receiving. I have received it all back, but it is not the same. There is the fragrance of holiness that clings to each gift I receive, and when I put these gifts together, they make me. I will not be so easily unraveled, and when I am, I am confident of what will be found. His life, in me, lived by faith. His fragrance marks every thread, every gift, and I am simply holding it in my body, filling up what is lacking in His. Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!

  • The idea of “a full night in the sanctuary” comes from Watchman Nee’s The Normal Christian Life, Chapter 13. Also, these Psalms capture my imagination when exploring this idea.

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