Dear Ray,
There comes a place where words have served their purpose and have to be left behind. We begin with many thoughts, desires, and requests. We speak because speaking is what we know how to do. Yet there is a deeper way, hidden from the striving mind, where we stop managing the moment and quietly turn toward the indwelling Christ.
I do not mean making the mind blank or trying to become passive. I mean turning away from the mind’s constant effort to understand, improve, and control, and turning toward the Lord who is already present in our spirit. We are not trying to bring Him near. We are recognizing the One who has never left.
This turning is everything.
We do not turn to obtain guidance, comfort, insight, or some spiritual experience, though these may come. We turn because He is worthy of our attention. The heart inclines away from itself and toward Christ.
The mind wants progress and measurable results. It wants evidence that something is happening. Yet the deepest work of God often begins when those demands are released. I do not have to carry myself into maturity. I do not have to explain myself into peace.
I simply turn.
Again and again.
When distractions arise, there does not have to be a battle. When thoughts multiply, I do not need to become frustrated with myself. There can be only the gentle return. Like a compass needle finding north, the heart finds its rest by inclining itself toward Him.
I have begun practicing this in ordinary moments—while sitting in the shuttle, waiting between trips, driving, or lying awake. I discover that I have wandered into thought, worry, argument, or some imagined future. I do not need to condemn myself or begin a spiritual exercise. I can turn again. The Lord is still there.
This surrender is usually very small. A quiet yielding. A loosening of my grip. God is not asking for another spiritual performance. He is asking for consent: consent to be loved, to belong wholly to Him, and to let His life move where my natural life would not choose to go.
At first this can feel like loss. The need to say much begins to fade. The desire to achieve spiritual success weakens. Yet beneath what appears to be loss, the roots of self-reliance are being loosened and Christ is gaining more room within us.
There is a difference between seeking spiritual experiences and seeking the Lord Himself. Experiences leave us occupied with whether something happened. Christ draws us beyond ourselves.
Turn toward Him.
Remain there.
When you wander, turn again. When you feel nothing, turn again. When you feel much, turn again. Do not measure the turning. Do not demand proof that it worked. Abiding is not a technique for producing an experience. It is remaining in the Person to whom we have already been joined.
The heart that rests in Christ discovers a freedom it could never manufacture. It no longer has to preserve itself or monitor its own progress. It can trust.
And in that trust, quietly and without fanfare, love accomplishes what effort never could.
Your brother,
Brent
