We’ve all become familiar with distancing. Six feet apart, we stand behind blue tape at the check-out lines, careful, lest our buggies brush the air space of a fellow shopper. Masks hide our smiles, and huggers like me keep their arms limply by their sides. And these are the good days. With every sniffle or friend who tests positive, we hole up in a back room to count away the days in isolation, trying to protect those we love. It’s emotional, this steering clear of humanity. This disconnect. It’s something I feel all the way to my soul. Worse than this, however, is spiritual distancing, which we are often less aware of than the space we must keep between friends.
Spiritual distance is a disconnect between us and God. A gap where love used to overflow, where worship was fervent, and where zeal was profuse. Like social distancing, spiritual distancing exchanges freedom for restrictive guidelines, tidy blue lines that we stay within but which cut off the heart of fellowship and stifle Spirit flow. Spiritual distancing, too, dons a mask to self-protect, and it isolates rather than becoming a part of the big, messy life of the church, where our sins and shortcomings mingle with those of others both stronger and weaker than we. It cuts away people and compartmentalizes God.
Unlike social distancing, a demand made by a handful of authority figures, spiritual distancing comes at our own hand. The rules that we follow are of our own making. And sadly, we’re often the last one to realize we’ve set the boundaries in place as choice after choice moves us farther away from God’s plan and purpose for our lives. Affections once tenderly saved for the lover of our souls are strewn about on less glorious relationships. Time once devoted to pursuit of Him is spent on the frivolous. Like a virus, inattention infects our spirits.
But we can close the distance. Just as individual choices can lead us away from tender fellowship, restoration begins with a single step toward God. Making this our purpose, we have this promise: “Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you,” James 4: 8. Shackles of isolation are broken, the mask comes off, and God gets all up in our space as distance dissipates with God’s giant leap into our world.
Tip/tidbit: What’s one action you can take today to position your heart for spiritual closeness?
Spiritual distance is a disconnect between us and God. A gap where love used to overflow, where worship was fervent, and where zeal was profuse. Like social distancing, spiritual distancing exchanges freedom for restrictive guidelines, tidy blue lines that we stay within but which cut off the heart of fellowship and stifle Spirit flow. Spiritual distancing, too, dons a mask to self-protect, and it isolates rather than becoming a part of the big, messy life of the church, where our sins and shortcomings mingle with those of others both stronger and weaker than we. It cuts away people and compartmentalizes God.
Unlike social distancing, a demand made by a handful of authority figures, spiritual distancing comes at our own hand. The rules that we follow are of our own making. And sadly, we’re often the last one to realize we’ve set the boundaries in place as choice after choice moves us farther away from God’s plan and purpose for our lives. Affections once tenderly saved for the lover of our souls are strewn about on less glorious relationships. Time once devoted to pursuit of Him is spent on the frivolous. Like a virus, inattention infects our spirits.
But we can close the distance. Just as individual choices can lead us away from tender fellowship, restoration begins with a single step toward God. Making this our purpose, we have this promise: “Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you,” James 4: 8. Shackles of isolation are broken, the mask comes off, and God gets all up in our space as distance dissipates with God’s giant leap into our world.
Tip/tidbit: What’s one action you can take today to position your heart for spiritual closeness?
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