when ye shall search for me with all your heart.
There are two goals I doubt that I will achieve: finding the perfect purse, and finding the perfect pair of jeans.
It is common among women to bemoan to each other about the difficulty of finding a pair of jeans that truly fit. Slacks and blouses, sweaters and skirts, and even shoes, we can find. But jeans that fit all aspects of our feminine physique? Unattainable.
If the jeans fit our hips, they definitely will not fit our waists. If we try the low riders, our paunches pooch out over the waist band. If the crotch fits, then you can bet your bottom dollar that the derriere won’t.
Recently I psyched myself up to join my sisters in the quest for the holy grail of dungarees (my mom’s word for jeans). I was desperate. I had stooped to wearing my faded, timeworn Levis that I retired from public display years ago, which are reserved only for solitary activities like hiking in the woods and gardening. I love those jeans! They’re soft and fit every curvature perfectly. I can’t imagine ever tossing them in the ragbag.
So last Tuesday I approached the wall of jeans in Kohls and, on hands and knees, hunted through every single pair for my size. Those disgustingly cheerful morning people, who had been standing outside the store chatting when the doors were unlocked for the big after Christmas sale, had already foraged through the once organized stacks of neatly folded jeans, and reeked havoc.
After two shopping trips and countless treks to and from dressing rooms, a stack of jeans came home with me. Final scrutiny before my own mirror narrowed the field down to three pairs of jeans that I’m satisfied with. They’re not perfect, but nothing can measure up to my beloved relaxed fit, boot cut Levis.
Questing after God is similar to my pursuit of jeans. I often have to psych myself up to find God in my life. The closet of my spiritual life is cluttered and I lack the energy and motivation to be a seeker.
There’s a scene in the movie ET in which the mom opens the kid’s closet which is crammed full of stuffed animals. ET is sitting among the toys but blends in and goes unnoticed by the mom. But if you know what you’re looking for—as the audience does—you can’t miss him.
Sometimes God becomes just another entity that gets lost in my busyness and disorganization. Of course, God is not really lost. I don’t need to go shopping for God; just open the door—to my prayer closet, just as Jesus directs me in Matthew 6:6 (KJV).
Is your prayer closet cluttered with timeworn worries and crisp, new concerns? Whether you prefer to pray figuratively or literally in your prayer closet, do take time to talk to God.