Hiding in Plain Sight

12May10 Hiding in Plain Sight

This is another installment in a series that has been adapted from my 11-part CD teaching series on A. W. Tozer’s spiritual classic, The Pursuit of God.

The Universal Presence

“Whither shall I go from thy spirit? Or whither shall I flee from thy presence?” (Psalm 139:7)

It begins quietly. You’re running a bit late for an important appointment and can’t seem to find your car keys or your glasses or your cell phone. They’re not where they’re supposed to be. So, you begin to look around. You search your pockets. You check all the usual places. You ask those nearby if they’ve seen or taken the missing items. The only response is a bunch of disinterested heads shaking back and forth – no one knows anything. At this point, you’re more exasperated with yourself than anything else. You’re positive that you put those stupid things right here by the door! But none of them are right here by the door!

Frustration begins to build as you earnestly go from place to place searching for the misplaced articles. You find yourself retracing your steps, going back to the same locations over and over again, hoping that maybe the fifth time is the charm. Soon neatly folded clothes are seen flying across the bedroom, carefully packed boxes are unceremoniously dumped upside down in the hallway, meticulously organized desk tops are swept onto the floor, all in a frenzied attempt to hunt down those idiotic thingumabobs. They’ve got to be around here somewhere!

Finally you reach the panic stage. What started out as a quick search has evolved into a search-and-destroy operation by a crazed madman. As your distorted voice bellows forth in anguish, you are oblivious to your children huddled behind the couch, silently praying for deliverance. You’re blind to the dog running for cover, head low to the ground, desperately trying to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible. Your psychotic tunnel vision prevents you from noticing the neighbors now gathered across the street at a safe distance, looking at your house as if it were an out-of-control oilrig fire. You are deaf to the approaching sirens of the SWAT Team. You cannot make sense of why FEMA is posting a television broadcast alert for your area. And you are unable to comprehend why the federal Office of Homeland Security has just raised the terror alert level.

You stand there a whipped man, hunched over your bathroom sink, contemplating which method of suicide would be easiest on your wife and kids. You slowly look up from your bottomless pit of misery and into the mirror before you. The reflection you see staring back is only a shell of, what was 15 minutes ago, a man. Your carefully coifed hair is now a wind-tunnel tangle. Your freshly starched, light blue shirt is now stained with flop sweat. Your face is now a bright, puffy crimson, streaked with tears. All former glory and future hope is gone.

Then through the misty fog of your deep despair you spy something dangling from your waist. It is your car keys, still safely attached to your belt for easy access and to prevent them form being misplaced. Amazed, you lift your eyes to see your long-lost glasses perched comfortably above your sweaty forehead. Finally, into your consciousness comes the calm voice of your wife. She’s gently talking you back down into sanity, through the cell phone you have been using for the past 15 minutes.