What Were You Thinking?

The question that has daunted me since this spring.

I have asked for an answer to this question so many times I've lost count. I asked it expecting a pleasant answer - one that would make me feel good about myself. I asked it non-chalantly like you ask your best friend, "what are you thinking?" I've listened for the answer in every way I can imagine, but I heard no answer.

Until one night, when I felt betrayed by the One who would not answer. I felt betrayed by all those who could hear Him, too. And I convulsed like a snake shedding its skin, coiled up in a closet and wept alone. I had not felt that far from my Lord since I lived in darkness. 

He sent the rainstorm and the thunder. He shook the skies with bright lightning, and rattled my windows with His thunderous voice. In the middle of the rainstorm, I screamed out at Him why He made me the way He did. I listed every fault I had, and every negative relationship resulting from my own failures. In my anger, I demanded an answer. Why would He ever make someone so destined to be miserable? Someone so hopeless? I howled out into the noise: "What were You thinking when You made me?!"

And He answered me. Not at all the way I knew to listen for, but in my mind's eye. I saw myself on my knees, all curled up in a little ball, singing. And I realized I was in the Most Holy Place in the temple. Deep in the heart of the sacred realm. Beyond the courts of praise and the gates of praise and the laver, and the holy place, and the curtain. I was sitting right in front of the altar, singing. And the Spirit of Jesus was hovering above me. There was a beautiful symphony of sounds rising up from all around - out in the outer courts, and up in the heavenlies. But I was the only one in that tiny room. Then suddenly, I wasn't there anymore. I was still looking at the room, but I was not in it. 

I heard the voice of the Father coming from outside of this space - above it. He was asking Jesus a question, over and over again, and it got louder and louder as He approached the Most Holy Place. He said "where is Kaylor?"

Those three words meant more to me than I could ever explain. He was looking for me. He had gone out searching for me, because I was not where I was supposed to be - knelt before His altar, constantly sending up sweet worship to Him. He missed me in my absence, and He was concerned. He knew something was not right, because I was not where I was supposed to be. Where I was made to stay.

That was the answer to my question. That's what He was thinking. Since my creation, God had been trying to lead me back to the place I was created to dwell. In the Most Intimate Place of Worship, sending up sacrifice constantly. Pouring out songs like oil, and my heart like perfume. He covets it. He is jealous for it. He will stop at nothing to get it back.