Knowing God

Jesus, You have been challenging me to draw nearer. I have walked and talked with You for years, yet understand why Paul wrote this near the end of his life,

But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him. . . . that I may know him and the power of his resurrection. . . . Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. (Philippians 3:7–12)

It seems the nearer Paul came and the more he knew of You, the more he realized how You are so much more than any human mind can comprehend.

I’m feeling this insufficiency. I also realize how easily I slip out of intimacy. How easily I pray rote prayers, have a quiet time that becomes more of an academic exercise. How easily I assume that because I learn something about You that I really know You. And how do I apply the verse You challenge me with this day? It tells me to increase in knowledge —   

But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. (2 Peter 3:18)

I know about relationships — they require time spent together, doing things together, sharing, going through life experiences together. I know this applies to knowing You. Why is it so hard? I could say that it is because I cannot see You, but that is not right. I cannot see the wind or the heat of the sun, but I know both very well.

I could say that being attention-deficit makes this too hard for me. My mind is like a butterfly or a wild animal or anything but quiet, focused and contemplative. However, You do not ask that everyone grows in knowledge of You and give an out to those with scatter brains.

For Paul, knowing You meant pushing out the other stuff that strives to make itself known. He suffered the loss of all things in order to know You. For him, whatever gave him credibility, prestige, honor, and recognition was nothing but trash compared to knowing You.

This is likely my issue too. I have many interests and preoccupations, some that are self-serving. I’m continually trying to decide where to focus — and You are continually trying to tell me that “where” is the wrong word; it should be “Who.”

Yet there is a fear in this emptying of interests. My mother lost her knowledge of all things. It was robbed from her by dementia, not her choice. I remember her happy, but empty of thought. For me, being empty of thought is terrifying.

In my devotional readings for today, Spurgeon suggests thinking instead of how much You know me. Before I was born, you knew all my inward parts. Before You saved me, You knew all the selfishness and sinful ways in me. After that wonderful day of being adopted as Your child, You knew how often I would stray and how many times my mind would go elsewhere when it should be occupied with knowing You.

Yet in all of that, when that last day comes and You say to some, “Depart from me; I never knew you” — You will not say that to me. Instead, You will wrap me in Your grace and welcome me into the fullest knowledge possible. I can scarcely hold that thought without weeping.

Lord Jesus, You are not the author of my fears. Knowledge of You is anything but a blank space. Even the little that I seem to know at times seems so vast that my head hurts trying to sort and realize and comprehend. Do this in me. Make me hungry to know You more. I feel so helpless to do this myself, so I pray that You will draw me nearer.