This year I am focused on living in the Spirit. My aim is to pay close and constant attention to the spiritual signals I receive and to “obey flawlessly” — a phrase I adopted from John Pontius. I am well aware that I am full of flaw-full obedience every day, but my commitment is to obey the Spirit of the Lord as precisely as I can determine His will and direction. I have joined a few “spirit sisters” in this quest, and our communal experience has been enlightening, and in a fundamental way, quite surprising. 

Like most of you, I have always sought the Holy Spirit’s company. Like you, I have pleaded for light and guidance when I’ve found myself in dark places. I have rejoiced in the Spirit’s fire in communion with fellow Christians. I have felt the Spirit in music, in nature, in family. I have felt the Comforter’s hands hold and heal my broken heart. I have heard the voice of God in startling revelation, in response to decades-long longings. Because I have been at this for decades, my store of “spiritual experiences” is rich and nourishing. Whether your “store” is small or vast, once God touches your soul, you are never the same.

But something new is happening. Here is how I described it in a recent journal entry: I feel much nearer to God than I have ever felt. But it’s not as I expected. I used to have heart-wrenching, soul-expanding prayer experiences, during which I knew I was in the presence of God. And I would think: how can anyone stand this intensity for more than these few moments? I could not figure out how to live in that blinding Light for any extended period of time. It would be like a never-ending orgasm — nice in theory, but really? So I thought: maybe I’m just supposed to live in the “normal” world most of the time, and be nourished and inspired by those occasional deep communions with God. But that kind of thinking made my “normal” life feel useless and dull. 

Our ward had a Relief Society birthday party recently. I arrived “late” at 6:15, thinking it started at 6:00. When I got there and discovered it was to begin at 6:30, I meant to go help set up, but was drawn instead to the dark chapel. I slipped through the chapel doors and felt my way up the aisle to a side pew and sat. When the chapel is empty and all the lights are off and all the doors are shut, it is very dark. My eyes never did get used to the dark, so the whole time I was there, I could not see at all. I sat in my unseen pew and talked to God. And very gently, without any sharp knowing or piercing revelation, just a “distilling on the soul”,  He let me know that He is actually with me all the time. Phrases from the Sacrament prayers ran through my mind: “that they may always have His Spirit to be with them.” As I sat in that pitch dark chapel, I felt like I was one with God. Just as Jesus promised: “that they may be one with us”. I felt that it would be forevermore impossible to get God out of me. Like He was in my blood, in my tissue, in my mind, in my heart. It was totally peaceful, completely empowering, and perfectly joyful.

As I discuss with my spirit sisters our experiences this year in focusing on hearing and heeding the Holy Spirit, we have all noted that we don’t seem to be experiencing an increase of “spiritual highs.” In fact, rather the opposite. All of us feel a kind of quiet holiness, as if Spirit has taken up residence within us, is actually with us all the time. I am surprised to realize that I have not really believed this is possible. My past direct experiences with God have been so intense that I was sure I would burn up if they were to continue too long. So this new constant peace — which surpasses all my understanding — this just-under-the-surface feeling of constant unity with the Divine is a Big Surprise. A wonder-full big surprise. Our life challenges have not abated at all. We still suffer bouts of doubt and fear; we still struggle to serve the best way we can. But it only takes a humble bowing of the head, a quiet reaching, to find our Solace and Strength right there inside us.

This is obviously a very personal experience, which I share with some trepidation. But I can feel your faith. I can feel the longings of your heart to know God. So I want you to know that God is knowable. I want you to know that He is always with us — every one of us — whether we are aware of it or not. And maybe today, you will experience the surprise of His presence. You will know as you are known. You will love as you are loved. Touched by God, you will never be the same.


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