What happened to meeting with God?

Am I a religious person or am I seeking a relationship with God?

The author A.W. Tozer wrote, “From man’s standpoint the most tragic loss suffered in the Fall was the vacating of this inner sanctum (man’s spirit) by the Spirit of God.” When Adam and Eve disobey God in the Garden of Eden, something regrettable took place. Eloquently Tozer wrote, “At the far-in hidden center of man’s being is a bush fitted to be the dwelling place of the Triune God. There God planned to rest and glow with moral and spiritual privilege and must now dwell there alone. For so intimately private is the place that no creature can intrude; no one can enter but Christ, and He will enter only by the invitation of faith.”

The Good News is that it is still possible to restore our lost relationship with God. Jesus Himself said “Behold I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me” (Revelation 3:20). When a person “open the door” to Christ, He is invited into someone inner sanctum, the far-in hidden center of man’s being; then a miracle takes place, it is called the <new birth>. How does the new birth take place? It is operative by the Holy Spirit; the “divine nature” enters the deep-in core of the believer’s heart and establishes residence there. The apostle Paul add, “If any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his,” for “the Spirit itself witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God” (Romans 8:9, 16). Such a one is a true Christian, and only such.

What happened to meeting with God? Did you take the time this morning to meet with God? “It is written: Man must not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.” Breakfast will feed your body, but what about your far-in hidden center? Don’t be content by reading a little devotional, instead take time to meet with God!

Written by a 18 years old young man

“After this my sense of divine things gradually increased, and became more and more lively, and had more of that inward sweetness. The appearance of every thing was altered; there seemed to be, as it were, a calm, sweet cast, or appearance of divine glory, in almost every thing. God’s excellency, his wisdom, his purity and love, seemed to appear in every thing; in the sun, moon, and stars; in the clouds, and blue sky; in the grass, flowers, trees; in the water, and all nature; which used greatly to fix my mind. I often used to sit and view the moon for continuance; and in the day, spent much time in viewing the clouds and sky, to behold the sweet glory of God in these things: in the mean time, singing forth, with a low voice, my contemplations of the Creator and Redeemer. And scarce any thing, among all the works of nature, was so sweet to me as thunder and lightning; formerly, nothing had been so terrible to me. Before, I used to be uncommonly terrified with thunder, and to be struck with terror when I saw a thunder-storm rising; but now, on the contrary, it rejoiced me. I felt God, so to speak, at the first appearance of a thunder-storm; and used to take the opportunity, at such times, to fix myself in order to view the clouds, and see the lightnings play, and hear the majestic and awful voice of God’s thunder, which oftentimes was exceedingly entertaining, leading me to sweet contemplations of my great and glorious God. While thus engaged, it always seemed natural to me to sing, or chant forth my meditations; or, to speak my thoughts in soliloquies with a singing voice.”

“Holiness, as I then wrote down some of my contemplations on it, appeared to me to be of a sweet, pleasant, charming, serene, calm nature; which brought an inexpressible purity, brightness, peacefulness, and ravishment to the soul. In other words, that it made the soul like a field or garden of God, with all manner of pleasant flowers; all pleasant, delightful, and undisturbed; enjoying a sweet calm, and the gently vivifying beams of the sun. The soul of a true Christian, as I then wrote my meditations, appeared like such a little white flower as we see in the spring of the year; low and humble on the ground, opening its bosom, to receive the pleasant beams of the sun’s glory; rejoicing, as it were, in a calm rapture; diffusing around a sweet fragrancy; standing peacefully and lovingly, in the midst of other flowers round about; all in like manner opening their bosoms, to drink in the light of the sun. There was no part of creature-holiness, that I had so great a sense of its loveliness, as humility, brokenness of heart, and poverty of spirit; and there was nothing that I so earnestly longed for. My heart panted after this,—to lie low before God, as in the dust; that I might be nothing, and that God might be all, that I might become as a little child.” —Jonathan Edwards