Then the glory of the LORD went out from the threshold of the house and stopped above the cherubim.
This section of Ezekiel is full of more death and vengeance from a God perceived as wrathful. The commentary asks about whether we’ve thought about a God who can disappear or become more distant, just like the God who left the house in front of Ezekiel. Hmm. I’m not sure about that.
Maybe it’s my sunny optimism, or staunch belief in the words that Jesus said that he’d leave the Spirit to be our constant advocate, but I don’t believe God ever leaves us. That is not to say that I don’t think we sense God’s absence, or that God’s not listening. But I think that has more to do with our perception rather than the reality.
The hard part about all of this is that if God is the source of my faith, and I feel wobbly, and God is present, couldn’t God help me feel more grounded? I suppose that yes, God could always make me feel God’s imminent presence. If that’s the case, and still sometimes we feel distanced, why would that be?
Maybe there’s something to learn, or some growth to take place during those dry spells. During those dry spells though, it might me most difficult to think about God or getting closer to God, when it’s a distinct distance from that sense of God that put is in the dry space to begin with. At times like these, I’m grateful I’m compliant and rather unquestioning about hierarchy and rules. If Jesus says the Spirit is always with me, then it’s true. It’s true, whether I sense it or not. It’s that stubborn belief in what I’m told that has in the past, and hopefully will in the future carry me through my dry spots. This morning, I’m thinking about a God who’s always present, but sometimes I don’t sense it, and thinking about what I can do to weather those dry spells.
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