Truth be told—everything feels a little foggy. I catch myself saying, “Last August—or was it February? Or was it the year before?”
I simply can’t recall. It’s so blurry.
I visited a doctor who assured me I didn’t have a brain tumor, and says she’s seeing this grey forgetfulness among many of her patients.
One of my friends jokes, “We’re living in coronatime.”
But it’s not all silliness. One of the big factors that helps us distinguish time and create markers of memory is big events.
The huge holiday celebrations. The breathtaking Fourth of July fireworks. The birthday party surrounded by everyone you love and everyone who loves you.
For me, many of those memory markers have disappeared or been muted over the last two years. Snowstorms and cancelled flights and postponed events. Friends unable to attend gatherings from hesitance or sickness or sudden life change. Big trips and little getaways cancelled… parties made smaller… people missed… and the shuffling of friends along the way.
The breakneck speed of life before the pandemic has been replaced with a bit-by-bit blurring with spikes of stress, social isolation, and disruption that take up a lot of our cognitive space and sometimes leave us with a hollow void. And I can’t remember when that happened. 🙂
So if you’re experiencing this, too, rest assured… you’re normal.
In this flatter toned world, I believe it’s all the more important to ask Holy Spirit to make us hyper-attentive to the Presence. Because God has not lost one iota of his wonder and magnificence.
Revelation 4 describes God on the throne surrounded by splashes of color, crashes of sound, and bizarre shapes and creatures that even on our best earthly days we’ll never fully comprehend.
God still shines and shimmers, glitzes and glimmers, beams and blazes. Nope! God has not lost his flare.
So listen and look close, my friend, to be wonderstruck by God. You might find it when you least expect.
On Sunday, the church service felt muted. The response to worship passive. The attendance sparse.
But when we lit candles at the altar in prayer, I stood next to an elderly man. Like me, he’s a kid in a candy store during this bright, flickery prayer time. While most people light a candle, we light rows and rows of them. A touch of whimsy tucked in, the flames represent hushed heartcries for ourselves and those we love.
That’s when I heard it.
This shush-shush-shushing sound.
I noticed the man’s hands shaking, his whole body rocking with tremors. I can’t identify the medical malady, but there we stood, side by side, crying out to God for healing for ourselves and those we love. In that moment, I sensed the power that can only be found in the community of believers who pray.
Nope. God has not lost his flare.
My hope and prayer for you this week is that you’ll know you’re not the only one who is feeling a little foggy. Though life sometimes feels repetitive or muted or not like it used to be, God still rises above this mess in glory and wonder inviting us to look up and look all around his presence.
So go ahead, light a candle or two of prayer, and remember God has not lost his flare.
