A Mole & a Flower

What does it mean to abide?

My Dearest Friend,

Something has been on my mind lately — when is something not on my mind lately? When are several things not on my mind lately? I had this image the other day of my brain as a whack-a-mole game. I go to practice presence in the Fellowship, and thoughts plague me, popping up like little moles. I keep whacking them, but then another pops up on the other side. As much as I keep trying to whack them, more and more keep popping up.

Thankfully, some of those moles are… flowers? Trying to be poetic here, but let’s be honest, I’m just not. But what I mean is that some of those thoughts are the Spirit speaking. And you know what, I don’t want to sit here and say those thoughts are the only good ones. Our Father wouldn’t want that thought to reign. He made me, and He loves my thoughts. He loves my little moles.

Okay, okay enough of this weird concept, but you get it (I hope?).

So, here’s what’s been on my mind: abiding.

What does abiding really mean? I mentioned the direct correlation between abiding and solitude in my last letter* — that there’s truth in what I’d previously said but also a gross lie in my interpretation of it. I’m pretty sure I even wrote in a devotional that abiding happens in solitude (oops).

I should have seen it sooner. I should have seen it when solitude (practicing presence, as I like to call it) began to be joyless. When I would leave my times of solitude worse off than when I started.

Every few years, I’ve noticed that God brings me back to the concept of abiding. Delving in deeper, unwrapping more and more layers of what it means to abide, savoring each one as I go, getting closer and closer to the delicious center. In so many ways, abiding feels so opposed to my lifestyle. But lately, I’ve been back in this hole (a good hole, not a bad hole), of abiding and figuring out what that really means. I feel like I could write a book about abiding alone (let’s put a pin in that for future Rachel). Really, I just want to tell you about some of my latest thoughts about abiding.

First of all, let’s get this straight. Abiding does not strictly happen in solitude. Abiding isn’t just when the house is quiet, the boys aren’t up yet, and you have time to journal to God, pray, read a bit of the Bible. It’s not just when you get a few minutes to practice presence mid-day. It’s not just that walk of solitude you get during lunch. It’s not just the solitude retreat you take once a year. It’s not not that either, but the fact that I was beginning to associate the two solely together in my mind was a little victory for the enemy. But, God is in the business of defeating every last enemy of my soul, so, nice try, Satan, but no.

Okay, yea, all those things are really really good for abiding, and they make abiding possible throughout the rest of your day, your life, but I found myself longing for more moments alone, more quiet time, less time with the boys around or with friends, gatherings, unexpected interruptions happening.

But shouldn’t I be feeling less anxious with all this solitude I’m creating space for? Why does it seem to be growing more constant? Why isn’t solitude working? (Haha, oh, Rachel)

How do I abide during the rest of the day? When I’m grocery shopping or meeting with students or grabbing coffee with a friend or disciplining the boys? When I’m cleaning the house or having a meeting or practicing my Russian? Maybe if I spend a bit more time in solitude, I’ll figure it out.

Okay, did it. Solitude: check. Why do I feel more confused? Why didn’t the anxiety go away?

Thankfully, on a drive into town one day, one of my little moles popped up holding a flower (there we go — I knew I’d figure out how to make this visual work).

Abiding is choosing the better part.

Whenever I choose the better part and understand what sitting at the feet of Jesus looks like in each situation (and there is a way to sit at His feet in any situation, I’m finding), I’m abiding. It’s not just when I’m practicing presence alone that I’m abiding, and to think so was harming me, not helping me.

And do you know what else abiding is? It’s delighting in each moment. Delighting in what’s before you, no matter how mundane. It’s delighting in the cleaning of your home. It’s delighting in the preparing of a meal. It’s delighting in the conversation with parents, co-workers, friends. It’s delighting in the two little boys right before me. More often than not, it’s setting down my phone or letting go of a task that’s less important and being present enough to delight.

Abiding is choosing the better part and delighting in it.

I was thinking about the times that God speaks through His Spirit in me, and I realized something. God speaks to me when I’m present in the moment. When I am present enough to notice Him, I really see Him in the most mundane moments. In fact, He’s spoken far more to me in the mundane moments of my life than in the big worship services, though I love being fully present to those moments too.

But I’m so thankful, my dearest friend, that we have a God who doesn’t need a worship service or a sermon or a good book (all good things) to speak to us.

All He needs is our full attention.

If God speaks most when I’m present in the moment, then let me be present. If abiding is choosing the better part, I’m gonna keep choosing. If abiding is delighting in what’s in front of me, then you’ll find me delighting.

*see “Choose the Better Part.”

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