So grateful for the serendipity that happens once in a while — what I now trust is more than mere chance. Came across a wondrously uplifting, comforting reflection by Tim Keller on a metaphor for spiritual maturity in Psalm 131:
Unweaned children cry in mother’s arms until they get something from mother — her milk. Only then are they quiet. But a weaned child is satisfied just with mother herself, with her very presence.
Click here to read the reflection in full.
Whether in worship or prayer or reading, the best portion of the meal is where I finally stay still before my Lord Saviour and Creator. Pursuing no agenda to beseech Him for what only He can effect, not beholden to untrammeled fears about present and future sorrow and travail. Only Him, and only Him. To want nothing more in that moment than to seek His face. Who was it who said that a friendship founded only on what the other party can give you is no friendship at all? Call it a master-slave relationship instead. A contract. A farce. A sham.
So the night I read Keller’s reflection, because of the quiet joy it wrought, I had a warm and snuggly descent into sleep, tucking my feet under the covers before simply basking in the privilege of closeness with Everything that really matters. And I just knew that it was very good.