Poor in Spirit

Sat, Feb 6, morning

Place:
Lying on my back in bed. I feel the Lord tugging me toward the prayer closet. I don't want to go.

My prayer:
I hate this emptiness. I hate having no spirit left in me.

Abba whisper:
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.

Me:
The kingdom is so far away.

Abba:
The kingdom is within you.

Me:
I've no strength to lay hold of it. I was once fearless. Now I'm afraid of a prayer closet.

Abba:
What are you afraid of?

Me:
Of what else You'll take away.

Abba:
You know I'll return more than I ask.

[I turn on my side. I can't make up my mind if I'm about to roll out of bed or trying to hide.]

Abba:
I won't force you.

[I lie there silently.]

Abba:
And I won't beg.

[My heart is pricked that I'm refusing my Lord. I get out of bed and go to the prayer closet. I crouch down and lay on my face.]

Me:
Here I am. But there's none of me left.

Abba:
That's where I need you. That's where we start.

Me [feeling hopeful]:
Are we done entering the valley? Are we on our way out yet?

Abba:
Don't worry about My timing. [Pause] Whatever keeps you from being here [prayer closet] is an idol.

[I think of all the reasons I'm sometimes not here. This is old stuff that the Lord and I have already been over.]

Me:
A lot of things have been idols.

Abba:
You can make idols of My gifts.

Me:
And that's when I lose joy in them.

Abba:
You know My jealousy. Even your joy is an idol if it's not in Me.

Me:
It's so hard down here. So many distractions. Not like Heaven. [I stifle tears to think about how much I love the Lord, how much I long to be with Him.] In Heaven I'll be able to love You perfectly.

Abba:
You prove your love for Me here, amid the distractions.