Looking into the predawn sky from the comfort of my recliner a few days ago, I experienced what I can only describe as an encounter with God. You may be able to relate, maybe not. Perhaps you too have been surprised by those fleeting moments when you actually feel the presence of the divine.
The earth didn’t shake. I didn’t hear God’s voice. But somehow it was “real” to me.
In these moments (I’ve had others) fleeting as they are, I simply sense the nearness of God. I find myself grasping for words to explain it. It’s not that God is necessarily any nearer than he always is, but in that moment, like a mist that collects on the hairs of my forearm or the warmth of the morning sun on my face, I feel his nearness. In that moment his presence is palatable. Maybe you can relate.
Maybe you know exactly what I’m talking about. Sometimes in quiet reflection, sometimes in the hurried activity of the day, sometimes looking out at the ocean, sometimes sitting in traffic; the “optimum conditions” for the experience are really hard to predict and even harder to manufacture. But it happens; unpredictably, unexpectedly, unavoidably, it happens.
Human beings, for some reason (some would say some unexplainable reason) have been known to experience what Christopher Hitchens, who recently died, called “transcendent or luminous” moments. Of course Hitchens, a very well known atheist, would not attribute those moments to the activity of God. As a non-believer he had to explain them using the only explanation at his disposal; kind of like a mechanic who is forced to try to fix a problem without the proper tools. Hitchens attributed those moments to some kind of chemical reaction in our brains.
I have great respect for Hitchens. He was an intelligent person. He was a person who had actually given a lot of thought to life and human existence. He had reflected and theorized about why we do what we do, think and feel what we think and feel, experience what we experience. But in this case, I don’t think he had a very good answer.
I would argue that the transcendent moments are just that… transcendent… moments when we transcend. Moments when the curtain that normally divides our dimension from God’s (although he occupies all dimensions – like I said, it’s hard to explain) gets pulled back and we get a glimpse into the heart of our creator. In those moments the beauty is breathtaking.
As a believer I would recommend two responses to these fleeting moments of transcendence.
One, don’t depend on them. There’s a reason I refer to these moments as “fleeting.” They don’t last long. In my experience, not only are they fleeting, they are rare. I’ve been a pretty serious follower of Jesus Christ for around 30 years and I would guess that during that time I’ve experienced “transcendent moments” maybe a total of 30 minutes (and that might be a generous estimate).
So if I choose to be committed to Christ only when I “feel” his presence I miss out on a lot of opportunities to worship him, serve him and share my faith with others. As I write this blog I actually feel pretty blah. I would much rather be in a river fly-fishing. I’m pretty sure I would be more likely to have a transcendent moment there than sitting here in my office.
Two, don’t disregard them. I think this is a very real possibility and it is sad. I believe that God actually gives us these moments as gifts to be received and treasured. But here’s the problem (at least it’s a problem for me). I think I might miss some of those moments simply because I ignore them.
Could it be, especially in our Western world, where we think through everything and feel compelled to explain everything and be able to qualify and quantify everything, we can actually miss out on some of the best things… like moments with God? Could it be that even those of us who claim to be believers have a default mode that is more like Christopher Hitchen’s? We give our brains credit for something God did.
Just a couple thoughts to ponder.
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