A dusty, barren landscape surrounded the little rest stop.
Bathrooms on the right, fruit and snacks for purchase on the left,
Heat and humidity on all sides.
I was traveling on an old, brightly painted bus to northern Thailand
Where I was meeting up with people I’d never met to go prayer walking.
It was the most adventuresome thing I’d ever done on my own.
That night, I sat in my bed at a bare-bones hotel and surveyed my room.
A sink, a high row of barred windows, and a door with one of those little slidey latches you usually find on the back of a bathroom stall door.
I was so far from home and the comfy familiar.
And You were there.
When I was nineteen, I was swimming in the ocean and got trapped in a rip tide.
The waves pulled at me and spun me around like a sock in the washing machine,
Each attempt for breath let in equal parts water and air,
I couldn’t keep up the struggle.
As I gave up, a friend grabbed my arm and pulled me to shore.
There are times when anxiety comes like those waves,
Worries and fears assault me until I want to give up.
And You are there.
There is no physical location You can’t go
Nor any emotional state beyond You
Not only that, but there is no place – physical, emotional, high, low, near, far – where You won’t go.
Your death, burial, and resurrection seem to have all imaginable places covered.
You choose to be the God Who Is Present.
You sit with me, hold me, and wash my feet just where I am.
I know that I am never outside Your reach.
What does this name, Jehovah Shammah, say about You, Jesus?
It tells me that You want to be with us
That You are not a respecter of manmade boundaries
That our attempts to withdraw have no control over You
That You love us.
Thank You for being near, Jehovah Shammah.
Today, I choose to recognize Your presence by engaging it; by engaging You.
Amen.
