An offering on the table

I prayed to the LORD, and he answered me. He freed me from all my fears. Those who look to him for help will be radiant with joy; no shadow of shame will darken their faces. In my desperation I prayed, and the LORD listened; he saved me from all my troubles. For the angel of the LORD is a guard; he surrounds and defends all who fear him.

Taste and see that the LORD is good. Oh, the joys of those who take refuge in him!” Psalm 34:5-8

Moses, as he came down from the mountain, terrified people because he was glowing with the intense glory of God. His face was radiant and alive—filled with heavenly light from being with God. To keep the people from being stunned, Moses wore a veil. As the glory faded, he continued wearing the mask so then the people would not know the light was disappearing.

How often I am like Moses! I go through seasons of mountaintop conversations with Jesus. The joy bubbles from a fount within me and I walk around delighting in every little miracle. Every flower, every baby, every good cup of coffee, every new friend brings immense joy. It becomes a game to seek out what Jesus has for me in the day. I put down the phone and read books. That is when I am most myself, when I seek out the beauty Jesus has for me every day. My face does not stop smiling

Then I go through seasons of loneliness and hurt—the great valley. I feel heavy at every conversation, I am disappointed by close friends, I shut out the world, I am bitter. My face becomes hard and shadowed.

I can see the shadow of the mountain I once was on but I’ve forgotten how to climb to 360* views.

Praying (conversations with my Abba– my Papa) is my hiking boots to strap on to get back up the mountain to see the view around me for miles. It returns my heart to a Father-Daughter relationship and we begin talking like friends. At first, it is hard, I reluctantly come and pray. It starts as a habit and ends up as a natural as walking.

In the valley, I have to first recognize I am not free as I am on the mountain. Then I come to Jesus with that recognition. I tell Jesus that I miss Him and I miss talking freely and openly with Him. I tell Him I miss my thankful and joyful heart, and would He return it back to me through Himself?

Before my feet hit the floor, in the heaviness I feel, I pray, “Jesus, as the light comes through the windows, let Your JOY enter into my heart again.”

I think of JOY as a never-ending stream of light into my heart, and darkness can never dampen it. However, when I close the blinds, I put up a barrier to shut out light in my room, it cannot illuminate the shadows. My heart often does that– puts up barriers against Jesus’s JOY. The light still exists even when I close it out; it constantly wants to penetrate the shadows. Jesus is constantly streaming from Himself JOY, yet I am the one who keeps this eternal fount from myself. My heart puts up blocks and tangled messes. Yet praying starts tearing down these walls within myself.

I love “taste and see that the Lord is good.” Come for yourself and by yourself, to see that the Father is good. He offers many things on the table for us, and gives us little miracles to enjoy everyday. My sense of taste is heightened because my sense of hearing is nearly gone. I believe Jesus wants us to quiet other noises and just sit with Him at His table to see what He has prepared for us to experience in all of its fullness.