She stood in a white ruffled dress with matching white ruffled socks. Her Mary Janes showed no signs of wear and tear except for the soles she glided across the school gymnasium floor on. It was pitch black and before she was aware that the music faded, a spotlight flickered on above her head. The sea of grade school peers innocently cavorting around her began to fade into the distance like the decrescendo of music. She felt a strong hand reach out for hers and safely secure it within His firm, but gentle grip. His other arm pulled her close by the waist. She placed her feet on top of His and followed His steps, moving to a melody foreign to the human ear, but sweeter than any song she had ever heard. As her guard began to fall, she drew closer to Him and rested her head upon His chest, breathing a great sigh of relief. She belonged here in His presence. She was created for moments like these.
During the past few weeks I have felt a disconnect between myself and the Man described in this scene. It is not that I believe He has retreated back to His heavenly throne only to leave me alone to fend for myself. His word has already stared down the face of this lie, reminding me that He never leaves nor forsakes His children (Ref Deuteronomy 31:6). And yes, I am also affirmed in the truth that I am counted as His, not just a number in a crowd of people, but singled out for His divine purpose and endearing pleasure. But, lately I have wrapped myself up so tight in the busyness of my days that I have neglected to acknowledge what that purpose and pleasure is--dancing with my Father, embracing the Creator who has given me life and life abundantly. The longer I leave Him waiting in the middle of that gymnasium floor, the more my soul pants to return back to Him who provides the very air I breathe.
God as the breath of life is introduced in the book of Genesis as the Holy Spirit that "hovers over the face of the waters" (Genesis 1:2). I read in the notes of one of my bible study lessons that the word for "hovering" can be translated as "cherishing, warming, and energizing" in Hebrew. When we fast-forward to Genesis 2:7, I imagine God hovering over His lifeless creation just before He breathed life into Adam's clay form. God "cherished" this man whom He fashioned in His image and "warmed and energized" him as soon as His breath was expelled into Adam's lungs. It is from this point in history that life as we know it was set into motion. By this very breath, all of Adam's descendants thereafter would be inescapably tied to their Maker, regardless if they choose to recognize this or not. There are plenty of people who disregard the sacred reality of this truth, either taking it for granted or believing that they are in control of their own air supply. But, the physical breath that fills our lungs is not what Christ is concerned about. What He sees is the spiritual filling that interweaves our hearts and stitches them back to the true Forefather of our genealogy.
The Holy Spirit hovering over Adam in the beginning of creation also hovers over us, administering not only each and every life-sustaining breath, but ministering to us through the breath that energizes a transformation from the old man to the new, born again into the family of God. We are awakened, spiritually loosed from our former state as soon as this breath fills our spirit. Thereafter, like a good parent who tends to his young, we are not left to fend for ourselves nor are we left exposed, but rather hidden under the shelter of His wings. "He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge" (Psalm 91:4a). It is in this very place that we are kept to flourish and operate. However, as soon as we step out from under this protective covering, we experience a state of unrest, for we are not meant to live apart from His will.
One night, my son and I decided to flip open the bible and read aloud whatever passage we landed on. The story we came across is recorded in 2 Kings 4:8-37. It is about a barren Shunammite woman who received word from Elisha that she finally would conceive and bear a son. She did in fact have a child at the time prophesied by Elisha but tragically he passed away some years later. The heartbroken mother travels to find Elisha after his death and he agrees to go back with her to pray over her son. When he sees the child's lifeless body laying on the bed, he lays upon him, puts his mouth on his, his eyes on his eyes, and his hands on his hands. Elisha was completely stretched out over the child. When he did this, the text says that the "flesh of the child became warm" (2 Kings 4:34). When Elisha stretched himself out over the child for a second time, he opened his eyes.
This text reminds me of how the Holy Spirit falls upon us like a dove and hovers over us just as Elisha hovered over the child, stretching His wings far enough to cover every portion of our being. And when we are hidden under His feathers, our flesh becomes warm, no longer inhabited by a heart of stone, but rather replaced with one infused with love. And much like the manner by which the child's eyes were opened in this passage, we too receive sight that looks beyond death into life.
When I ponder upon the role and work of the Holy Spirit in my life, the disconnect I once felt begins to dissipate. For one, I am reminded that the breath that lingers within me is as intimate as it gets with my Father for it is inspired from His very lips. And as I dwell upon this thought, I envision my feet touching the tip of His as I hurl my body into His chest, and allow myself to be whisked away yet again into our secret place. I envision His arm stretched out, requesting my hand for one more dance. And just like that, all of the cares of the world melt away from these shoulders once heavy-laden with burden. I am validated in His loving arms. I am cherished, warmed, protected and covered, as He hovers over me. And I am reminded that I belong here in His presence. I was created for moments like these.
