I have a confession to make; I am co-dependent. I start going wonky if I don’t experience the nearness of my Lord. Or what I affectionately call “sightings of the King.”

Though I know He is with me always, I prefer times when I sense his closeness and hear his voice. Or even catch a glimpse of him with the eyes of my heart. If these ways of knowing God go away for while, I begin to self-examine. What did I do, or not do, that caused the Lord to withdraw from me?

In faith I believe the Lord and I are joined in our spirits forever. Therefore, when I use the word “withdraw” I do it in the context of intimate relationship. For instance, my husband and I are together most every day, yet he sometimes seems withdrawn from me. It could be he was focused deeply on something else, or perhaps I did offend or neglect him. The withdrawal isn’t necessarily physical, but emotional.

Withdrawal is a subtle signal to draw closer

In relationship with your beloveds, the sense of withdrawal or lack of closeness is hard to tolerate. The best remedy: take steps to draw near and discover what may be amiss in how we are loving. How we love others is often a factor in whether they remain emotionally or physically close. Keep in mind, though, they may be going through something, which has nothing to do with you. In any case, it is good, I believe, to begin by examining your own behavior. Especially when it concerns the Lord, who is above human ways, never petty or stressed or overcome by circumstances.

So I began pondering the recent history of my behavior.

I realized I had not been consistently attentive to the Lord in recent weeks; maybe that was the problem. Perhaps I hadn’t known sightings of my King because I hadn’t been looking for them.

I was concerned, too, that perhaps I had become too familiar in my easy intimacy. Had I neglected to show God the reverence he is due? In case that was the problem, I made an effort to worship him more formally. In prayer, I knelt in reverence, using my imagination to “see” my Lord on his throne, and worship him as the subject of a King and my Sovereign Lord.

However, my more formal prayers, confessions and blessings did not change the space between us.

When nothing changed, I cried out for Him

I lectured myself, “God will not be manipulated. He can manifest his presence whenever and however he pleases.” But this did nothing to soothe my increasing need to sense his nearness. Out of raw frustration, I cried out, “Lord, please open my eyes to see you again!”

The next day — a Sunday — while joining in worship at church, I suddenly saw him, unexpectedly and clearly. When I saw him, I somehow instantly understood the source of my blindness. In this sighting of the king, he was sitting on a low stool, in a humble house. He was surrounded by the hungry, the needy, the weak, the ignorant. He was teaching, sharing his heart. He paused to look up at me across the room, and smiled an invitation to come near. Weeping for joy, my heart said, “of course!”

I had been looking too high. Then I remembered something the Lord said through Isaiah:

For this is what the high and exalted One says — he who lives forever, whose name is holy:
“I live in a high and holy place, but also with the one who is contrite and lowly in spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive the heart of the contrite.”

Isaiah 57:15 (NIV)

An old familiar religious rut

I had a history of falling into this rut, and have met many others who confess the same problem. We try to connect with God as a lowly subject unworthy to be in the company of a sovereign God. Especially after a spell of relative unfaithfulness.

Appropriate as that may be, my Lord — the King of Graciousness — makes it clear that through Christ, he erased the barrier of unworthiness. He invites us to know him, even in our low estate. He beckons us, drawing us near, even inviting that familiarity. This King wants his children to know him as only true children can know a father: up close.

Without question, God is worthy of the highest reverence.

When my King looks into my heart, I want him to see faithfulness there, and genuine worship. My goal is to keep the majesty and the tender Fatherhood of God, the Lordship and the Brotherhood of Jesus in full view. This way, I enjoy even more deeply the marvelous wonder that I can live near Him.

I learned from this experience, this sighting of the king, that God never withdrew from me. Rather, I experienced a perceived distance between us because I looked for Christ on his throne rather than where he wanted to be found by me: the teacher close by. 

I remembered then that I had felt him drawing me to read my Bible more, to meet with him there; but the spirit of religion kept whispering in my ear, “That’s not enough,” and I believed it.

God gave himself to me and you.

He gives Himself as a faithful, continual Presence — in a covenant of love. He does not pull back and take himself away. Even if I sin and throw up a barrier in our relationship, it doesn’t send him away.

In seeking the Lord we must discover where he is, not go looking where we religiously assume he will be. Furthermore, we must be faithful for the sheer sake of loving Him well, not in order to manipulate him. Our God and King is a living person. He is not a distant deity, presumed upon through religious ritual or the expectation that he blesses us because we did the right stuff.

God invites us to something infinitely more precious and free and satisfying, yet only available to the heart fully surrendered. Sightings come to the one willing to let God be God, who receives him as he chooses to come. This is, I believe, how one develops what our King desires: eyes that see.