I have terribly misunderstood the role of the Spirit for the majority of my Christian journey.
He does not (only) exist to provide me with an emotional sense of God’s presence.
He does not (only) exist to provide me with anointed on-the-spot words to those around me.
He does not (only) exist to comfort me in times of tremendous discomfort.
He does not (only) exist to confront the sin in my life.
“But when He, the Spirit of truth, comes, He will guide you into all the truth; for He will not speak on His own initiative, but whatever He hears, He will speak; and He will disclose to you what is to come.”
I have heard this for a long time, but it only became real to me recently. The Spirit is literally dwelling inside me. Dwelling, finding His residence, staying, living within me. He is there all the time. Those wise decisions I make, those are His. Those times of compassion, those are His. Those times of discipline, those are His. Any wisdom that exudes from my actions or from my mouth is from Him, is Him.
The Bible tells us to ask for wisdom, to pray for the Spirit of wisdom to come upon us. I have in the past, and a lot in the present as well. Solomon got His, and I think I’ve got Mine.
This week there was an overwhelming sense that although I was making the decisions, all of them were being guided by Not Me. My eyes were then opened to the possibility that the Spirit had finally become a constant in my life, an everyday companion and friend and mentor. I know that He is there and I acknowledge Him often.
I’m not living in this “spiritual high” like I once did, and for which I once did (and still) search. No, I certainly have my lows; they are deep and recurring. But I don’t feel alone unless the low is extremely low and I haven’t had one of those since Christmas weekend.This is life. Real life. It feels nice.