I walked a 26-minute mile on the treadmill this afternoon and then followed it with a sweat-out in the dry sauna.  What bliss!  I told the Lord I would use the time in the sauna for worship and communion with him.  So I stripped down, clicked on Eric Clapton on my phone, and sat down in the box, now about 108 degrees temperature. 

“I thought this was our time together,” the Lord said to me.  “What’s with Eric Clapton?”

“Oh!  Sorry,” I responded as I stepped out and turned off the phone.  “Don’t know what I was thinking.  But yes, Lord, I want to talk with you about . . .”

“Why do you always have to talk first?” he asked.  “Why don’t you let me start the conversation?”

Silence.

“OK.  You go, Lord,” and I knew it was a moment to be quiet, and worship.  I sat in silence for a few moments.  “Lord,” I said, and he hushed me before I could continue.  A few more moments of silence.

“What about . . .?” 

“Tsch,” he said, the same way dog whisperer Cesar Milan talks to a dog when he wants that calm submissive attitude from him.  OK, I got it, and I was quiet as far as talking to the Lord, but my mind wandered to talk with other people – people who weren’t even here!

When I was finally able to pull out of those imaginations, the Lord showed me a brief glimpse of that special place of peace, a place that is only spirit.  I wanted to hang out there, and to glide in the spirit with him.  He said no. He told me I wasn’t ready.  He could not yet trust me with that because I only wanted the experience to then go around and tell others about it and how wonderful it is. I couldn’t handle it.

I’m reminded of when my father was teaching me how to drive.  I only later in life learned that it was a very terrifying ordeal for him, and that’s why he soon turned the responsibility over to my mother.  Well, I remember one day we were driving our little neighborhood street and I saw a couple of friends. I waved out the window to them – the wave that says, “Hey, look at me!  I’m driving!”

“Stop that!” my dad barked at me. “You just pay attention to the road.  Forget about who’s out there!”   I think God was telling me that’s the concern he has about taking me flying in the spirit.  And sadly, I get it.  I know I’m not ready . . . yet.  I caught myself and came back to give attention to God. He began to draw me into the silence once again, but I went on a walk around the neighborhood thinking about this and that, and what I need to do when I finish and on and on. 

“You see what I’m working with?” God asked.

“Yes.  Why do I do that?”

“It’s that concern you have about what others think of you.  It’s like a sheath that covers you. You’re never satisfied to just be you, you alone, you alone with me.  But that will change.  That sheath is beginning to peel away.  Little sister . . .”

And then my mind turned the station and I was hearing Elvis sing, Little sister don’t you . . .

“Oh!  Sorry!   I’m back, Lord.”  And I started to think about what fun it will be to write about this conversation with God.

“Shouldn’t you have the conversation first?” he interrupted.

“Oh, right.  OK, I’m all yours.  I’ll try.”   And I did try but never got fully into the place of silence where there is true worship and nothing else.  Then the sauna turned off. Time was up.  Maybe I can just sit here a little longer and enter in, I thought to the Lord, but I knew that wasn’t to be. 

I had what I could receive for today, and I know the sheath is peeling off to unveil what is really me, and all will come forth in time.