I woke up in middle of the night with that dislocated feeling, when you suddenly feel like you don’t know who you are, or if God is, or what consciousness or reality is. That odd feeling, when a strange type of absurdity and ugliness seems to press in on you, unravelling the edges of not only your world but yourself.
I stared at the cieling and told Jesus, please let me feel you with me right now. Holy Spirit, I need you, you are my water and my air. I can’t deal with this right now, without you. The next thing I knew I was waking up, and it was morning, the sun shining through the window, and a feeling of fullness in my heart.
I got up, and felt quite wonderful, for five minutes, before all the stresses and worries of the day crowded in.
Right now in my life, God isn’t being heavenly morphine, a religious ecstasy or some overpowering subwoofer music that overwhelms out all else. No, I still feel other things–ugly, sad, or bitter. But on occasion, He reminds me, He’s here too, like a brief touch on the shoulder.
He is good.