Mike Paschall . com

A couple of weeks ago, I preached a message at Emmanuel Christian Fellowship entitled, Quieting the Spin. The main focus was on how to best handle the stress and terrors when seasons of trials blow in. Is there a way to best prepare ourselves before, during, or after the $&#* hits the fan? I won’t re-preach it here, but the link is imbedded in the sermon title, Quieting the Spin, if you want to have a go at it.

It is a massive help to us once we realize that our intentionality of being in the Lord’s presence doesn’t necessarily require activity from us—including the forming of words and ideas. I encourage you to ponder the words from the old Lutheran pietist, Ole Hallesby. I’ve included a small sampling from his book, Prayer. If you’ve got the patience to read the following excerpt, you’ll glean a beautiful perspective on what it means to “stop spinning” in God’s presence.   We need this more than we can even imagine.

 -MDP-

Prayer is really an attitude of our hearts toward God. As such it finds expression, at times in words and at times without words, precisely as when two people love each other. As conscious personalities we must and should give expression to our attitudes in words one to another. It is this faculty, which lifts the fellowship of human beings to such a high plane and makes it so rich.

But at the same time, let us remind ourselves that life, in the last analysis, is inexpressible. There is something in our lives, also in our fellowships, which can never be formulated in words, but which can be the common experience, nevertheless, of two who share with each other everything that can be expressed in words.

In the soul’s fellowship with God in prayer, too, there are things which can and should be formulated in words.   But there are also things for which we can find no words. Likely it is this to which the apostle makes reference when he speaks in Romans 8:26 of the groanings which cannot be uttered.

My little boy came in one day and stuck his little head into the doorway of my study. Now he knew that he was not supposed to disturb me during working hours. And his conscience troubled him a little on account of this. But he looked at me nevertheless with his kind, round baby eyes and said, “Papa, dear, I will sit still all the time if you will only let me be here with you!”

That he received permission when he approached my father-heart in that way, every father knows.

That little experience gave me a great deal to think about.

Is not that just the way we often feel with regard to our heavenly Father? We do so love to be with him, just to be in his presence! Moreover, we never disturb him, no matter when we come nor how often we come.

We pray to God. We speak to him about everything we have on our minds both concerning others and ourselves. There come times, not so seldom with me at least, when I do have nothing more to tell God. If I were to continue to pray in words, I would have to repeat what I have already said. At such times it is wonderful to say to God, “May I just be in your presence Lord? I have nothing more to say to you, but I do love to be in your presence?”

We can spend time in silence together with people whom we know real well. That we cannot do with others. We must converse with them, entertain them either with interesting or profound things as the case may be. But with our own dear ones we can speak freely about common and insignificant things. In their presence, too, we can be silent. Similarly, it is not necessary to maintain a conversation when we are in the presence of God. We can come into his presence and rest our weary souls in quiet contemplation of him. Our groanings, which cannot be uttered, rise to him and tell him better than words how dependent we are on him.

As evening drew near, and our little fellow had played until he was tired, I noticed that he drew closer and closer to his mother. At last he found the place he was longing for, mother’s lap. He did not have a great deal to say either. He simply lay there, and let his mother caress him to sleep.

We too, become tired, deadly tired, of ourselves, of others, of the world, of life, of everything! Then it is blessed to know of a place where we can lay our tired head and heart—our heavenly Father’s arms, and say to him, “I can do no more. And I have nothing to tell you. May I lie here a while and rest? Everything will soon be well again if I can only rest in your arms a while.”