"Your greatest purpose is to be with Me."

This is the somewhat perplexing answer that I continually receive from the Lord when asking him about why I am here walking this earth year after year. I keep begging him for greater clarity on my calling, my gifts, my destiny, my purpose. My heart keeps saying, "Give me a noble task." And God keeps saying, "Just come over here and be with me." He keeps distracting me from being a responsible contributing member of society. While I want to work for him, he simply wants to take a stroll in the garden, to sit together on our mossy forest bed and whisper sweet nothings into my heart. I live in a bustling house with four other extraordinary girls, all going about their Fathers business with so much grace and unremitting purpose. And here I sit, day after day, week after week, in a new city, unemployed, gleaning grains of wisdom, jewels of insight from behind them as they come and go.

I open my eyes in the morning and my day sprawls open before me. Some days this is daunting and lonely, but more often than not I eventually find myself accidentally tripping and tumbling headlong into the well of Gods surprising presence, perpetual availability, his baffling affection, as relentless as the ocean waves. Its absolute bliss. Then I reluctantly pull myself away after what seems to be an indulgent amount of time and get on with the day, find something "productive" to do. I do this not because I want to, but to prove to all the hypothetical, imagined, and perhaps real judgers around me that I'm not a lazy bum.

I checked my bank account today and it's overdrawn. Through an endless series of miraculous provision, I have not missed a bill in two months. I have written two rather substantial rent checks and truly I can hardly tell you how on earth that money landed in my account. But like Peter, I suddenly realized I was standing on water. And that's impossible. People can't stand on water. I removed my gaze and my mind started whirling and spinning and compiling a list of all the things I should be doing rather than daydreaming with God. It's still early. I could easily apply to a handful of jobs. I could sew all afternoon. And then I remember the ghastly balance on my credit card due to a series of unfortunate incidents with my car and various other regrettable decisions. Then I remember my school loans. Its time to seriously sit down and strategize my way out. Whoa. Its time to fix this.

And of course Gods perfectly logical response is to casually suggest a trip to Forever 21. Seriously. And so I go. Perhaps the Lord finds that this would be a good place in which to confront me with my irresponsibility and show me things I can't have. I don't know. I go with no means or intention of making a purchase. And I find myself standing at the counter with a $12 dress. And next thing I know I am pulling out two gift cards from my wallet that I had completely forgotten were there until that very second. I handed them over, doubtful that there was any balance left. They covered the cost of the dress with $1 left over. And I walk back to my car utterly baffled at what had just taken place, staring off into an invisible kingdom that is more real than the pavement I am walking on.

I go home and pull Gods redemption over my head. The soft cotton drops all the way to my ankles. I grab a couple books, a big jar of water, and my computer. I walk out onto the porch. The dress feels so good, the warm summer breeze pushing it against my skin. I am clothed by the Lord. I did not toil, nor did I spin. I did not earn this dress. I am simply wearing it. My bare feet on the cement feel cool and natural, my hair wild and frizzy. I am an earthen vessel. I am a clothed lily. Just a half hour, just a half hour on the porch with the Lord on this glorious sunny day and then I'll work. I just need to be with him for another half an hour and then I'll go do something productive. And SLAM, the wind shuts the door behind me. And it's locked. On any other day this would be inconsequential as the door is generally opening and closing every five minutes, however; three of my roommates are out of town and one of them is working. So here I am, indefinitely.

I pick up a book that was recently lent to me, Adoration, by Martha Kilpatrick, about Mary of Bethany. What unfolds before me can only be described as the most freeing moment of my life, the absolute stillness and simplicity of my origin, the final permission to trust God more than I have ever dared hope possible. The silencing, once and for all, of all the voices of distrust echoing through my heart.

Yesterday a friend told me about a job opening at a nursing home as a podiatrist's assistant. I eagerly said yes, as I am open to absolutely anything, but must confess my stomach nearly turned at the thought. I can't stand the sight of my own feet and have never really been a fan of anyone else's either. And then there is Mary, this beautiful woman who spent her life at Jesus' feet. Feet were her job. There he taught her. There she poured out her broken heart. There she wasted her entire inheritance and anointed Jesus for burial. There she wiped them with her gratitude. She knew her place. While her sister Martha was perpetually tossed and agitated at God's obvious lack of understanding as to what is truly important, she simply sat at Jesus' feet. It was her life's work.

Martha Kilpatrick says,

"The great irony of the universe is this:

those who lower themselves to the

earthly mud of their origins

-can touch heaven."

Martha lived her life striving and unhappy.

Mary lived in the blissful stillness of One Thing.

Jesus said, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and bothered about so many things; but only one thing is necessary, for Mary has chosen the good part, which will not be taken away from her." (Luke 10:41-42) It was not a condemnation. It was not that he loved Mary more, she just made the better choice, and Jesus ached for Martha to put down the pots and pans and come feast on his love.

God makes it so abundantly clear in scripture that what he has for us comes by way of gift and by inheritance (which is perhaps a study for another day). It's so clear all of a sudden I feel rather foolish and shocked at how deceived I have been. I thought I was providing for myself. I thought I was taking care of myself. It's staggering how dead-set we are on limiting an absolutely limitless God, how enslaved we are to this system of weights and measures. God has no respect for it. Perhaps I will never have anything of earthly value "to show for myself." And what that really means is, "to show to other people for approval." And perhaps sometime I will. There will most likely come a time when my days are again full of activity. Although I must say I am less and less eager for that. And who knows, maybe someday I will even be standing in the wild fullness of all the hopes, dreams, longings, and purposes God has placed in my heart. But by the grace of God (hear me now my Father) it simply won't hold even the most miniscule amount of satisfaction apart from His ever steady gaze of approval. Jesus says, "Do not work for food that perishes, but for food which endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you, for on Him, the Father God has set His seal." (John 6:26) Later Jesus says, "I am the bread of life, he who comes to me will not hunger, and he who believes in me will never thirst."

Big deep sigh...can it really be? Can it really be that my greatest purpose is to feed on Jesus? What a glorious life this is. What ecstasy. And why am I so surprised to find that this is just exactly what I've always wanted. How did you know Jesus? Just what I've always wanted...

Oh, and a check just arrived in the mail.

Painting: Feast in the House of Simon the Pharisee; Peter Paul RUBENS; c. 1618

While I realize it is not the same story, the same Mary, it is meaningful none-the-less. Was lucky enough to stand in front of it for hour at the Hermitage in St. Petersburg.