In the cleft of the rock

I get so frustrated with myself for being stressed.  I know that in those moments, even if my circumstances totally validate the difficulty I am facing, my reaction to it in stress and worry is a reflection of where I am looking: at the mountain instead of its Maker.  Now, I'm not minimizing suffering or saying this isn't hard, so let's be clear on that.  It's agonizing.  But when I'm having a physical reaction to the stress, constantly feeling anxious, and worrying that if I don't make this happen, it never will... well, I don't like seeing those things about myself, but sometimes, I just have to face realities for what they are.

I've been reading "1,000 Gifts"... again... because I have to constantly refocus my gaze on Him, on thanksgiving, these days.  These moments.  This is a time when eucharisteo is a moment-by-moment battle.  But as I read last night, she wrote of Moses and one of my favorite moments in the Bible, when he asked to see God's glory.  The Lord hid him in the cleft of the rock and covered him with His hand as He passed by, and then Moses looked and saw His back.

"It is in the dark that God is passing by.  The bridge and our lives shake not because God has abandoned, but the exact opposite: God is passing by.  God is in the tremors.  Dark is the holiest ground, the glory passing by.  In the blackest, God is closest, at work, forging His perfect and right will.  Though it is black and we can't see and our world seems to be free-falling and we feel utterly alone, Christ is most present to us, I-beam supporting in earthquake.  Then He will remove His hand.  Then we will look.  Then we look back and see His back."

    

I am in the cleft of the rock.  Perhaps it is not such a frightening place to be after all.  Could I even- is it possible?- could I not only accept the dark, but be excited about the tremors?  Anticipate the free-fall?  Trust whole-heartedly, because giving thanks reminds me of all the times He has shown his glory?  And when the light shines through again and I look back... oh, what a glorious sight I shall see.