Saturday, February 13th, ‘10

Saturday, February 13^th, ‘10

JUST LYING HERE, THINKING

“At night my soul longs for Thee…” (Isaiah 26:9 NASB)

There is something in human nature which is on the prowl, they only come out at night. And night searches, cruising, barhopping or whatever you want to call them, usually serve to satisfy an instinct, part survival, part mastery. The V-shaped gaggle of geese maintain flight because some hormone or other internal signal says, “We’ve got to get there”, wherever there is. A lion or shark’s stalking is basic to hunger; a carnivorous norm and necessity. But spirituality rises above want or compulsion though it still wants. The longing is simply refined, processed, purified. The worshiper’s groping is every bit as blind as it is for the fleshly man but the Object sought is different. The prodigal son lamented, “My father’s servants have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger!” (Luke 15:17) But was it food he craved? When he finally did return home and the father threw his arms around him, the tattered young man realized his craving was for hugs not husks. The body starved and shriveled could have survived months, but the soul wasting and deprived, not so.

And it’s worse at night. Daytime has a normal bustle, there in the swivel seat, others stamping out piecework on a loud assembly line. But Isaiah contemplates, “At night my soul longs for Thee…” You start missing what’s missing when the neighborhood lights go out. Like a soldier’s bride wondering if he will ever come home. Aloneness deepens in the dark. A sack of potato chips can’t fill the void. Been there, done that. I remember one time, flipping through the channels (before we had Cable), then flipping through a magazine, then a book, then standing in front of the open refrigerator, then looking in the cupboard, then back to the TV, magazine, book, Fridge and cupboard for a second then third go-round, maybe a fourth. “Kris”, I thought, “you don’t want a magazine article or Nightline or a bowl of cereal; you want God”, which led to a meaningful time of prayer and intimacy. Realize it or not, that’s the case with anyone who has a spiritual pulse – “At night my soul longs for Thee…”

The next clause of the text responds, “Indeed, my spirit within me seeks Thee diligently…” Wise to cultivate Isaiah’s spiritual side. If God can be found it won’t be in a ceremony or some external. “Deep calleth unto deep…” (Psalm 42:7) Surface slush dries quickly. The place where real pain is felt, where love resides, the “God-sized blank” as Huxley coined, is where that instinct I first mentioned sounds its cry. That nerve can ache far worse than an abscessed tooth. Science claims to have identified a “worship gene”. As all the Eldredge books instruct, there is an instinctive longing among the wild at heart. Earth’s sweetest intimacies are only dim reflections of Christ’s glory. When faith finally becomes sight, no one will say, “I liked shopping better”. Been there, done that too (don’t you cringe at that saying), but shopping is like flipping through a magazine or standing in front of the refrigerator; often done with a blank stare. You’re still hungry after some meals. The world was never meant to completely satisfy. There’s not an ocean full enough. So you lay there when others are snoring and do mind-travel – “At night my soul longs for Thee…” Having tasted, it isn’t an empty search.