Places I made into Clefts

When I was a new believer, I had a simple Bible – no red letters, no commentaries, etc.  It was just my Bible and my grandfather’s rocking chair.  After I was dressed and ready for work, I would sit down and just be with God.  I was blessed to have time alone early in the morning after my then husband left for work.  I had been taught that I needed to begin each day with the Lord, reading His Word and praying.  As I put good teaching to practice daily, I established a habit that, while sometimes set aside, has never truly been broken.

My first cleft was a safe place, a refuge, where I could take out the hurts of the past, see them through God’s eyes, ask forgiveness, and forgive.  I remember discovering peace in that chair, my first cleft.  It was a place I began to trust the Holy Spirit, whose overflow I received about a year after accepting Christ’s gift of blood atonement for my sins.  It was there that I forgave my father for all that had gone wrong in my young life.  Moreover, in a later cleft, I discovered I was responsible for how I treated him in return, repented, and received forgiveness.

My second cleft had three parts.  Which one I used depended on the weather and where my children were.  It was the first house we owned, purchased at the birth of our older son.  The country setting helped my ability to let the world slip away, as I spent time with God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, the Three in One.

The first location was for warm, sunny mornings.  During my infant son’s first nap, I would open the back door, sit on the floor in the sunshine, and just listen to my heavenly Father for a short while.  It was as if I were saying ‘You come before all with me” and I would remain for perhaps 20 minutes before housework and then my son claimed my time and attention once more.  It was there I learned what “be still and know that I am God” meant for me.  Later in my walk when I heard someone sing, “My joy is like ointment poured forth” I thought of that sweet, peaceful, loving time.  The wildflowers always drew butterflies, and that was the place I saw a hummingbird moth.  It was as if He said, “I will show you My loveliness through My creation.”

By now, the cleft was not just mine but OURS.  I realized He wanted to meet with me even more than I with Him.

The second setting of our cleft in that place was a simple chair, upholstered and comfortable, that looked out a large window to a tree-covered hill.  It was our primary cleft for many years.  I studied the word there, learned to seek His face and not His hand.  That cleft was where I learned to lift my hands in my soul, allow Him to pick me up, and then be at peace and rest in my Father’s lap.

The third portion of my cleft at that time was our porch – a large deck, covered so that we had an outdoor living room during good weather. There I would play an electronic Autoharp and, although I am not a musician, I worshiped with song and praised with my whole being.  It was a place of sweet intimacy, of singing back to Him as He sang songs of deliverance over me.  As I played there when I was usually alone in the house, I learned how to let the cares of this world slip away.

In summer, it was a delightful place as the hummingbirds buzzed through as they disputed claim to the feeders hung from the tree limbs just outside.  The view from the porch looked up the small valley that was our yard to another hill.

The second-growth forest included flowering dogwood and redbud in spring, peaceful green trees in summer, and riotously colorful leaves in fall – red and orange and gold and brown.  Even in winter, with cold winds and bare branches or with snow everywhere, a few minutes there made for peace.  It was like watching an ever-changing painting with shapes and colors from my Father’s hand to express His love and encouragement.

That was the cleft where I learned the value of seeking visual surroundings that reflect more of God’s work than of man’s hand.  I found that resting my eyes on His creation made it easier to seek His face.

It was a lesson I learned in part from my grandmother, who loved her Lord as well.  She had a number of prints of paintings by a landscape artist.  She placed them in her home where she could sit and gaze on them.  She always said she was finding new paths up the mountains or through the woods in her mind.  I have since realized that it was her way of letting go of her world and walking with God when her physical frailty prohibited her walking outside.  As I post this, I’ve realized I need to do the same here in the city and why I sometimes drive the longer route to work through parkland. I need to see what He’s made.

Then there are the clefts that I have had for a short season or even just one day.  One such spot was a park near our home in Houston.  It was a time of great struggle at the house spiritually and emotionally.  I regularly took breakfast to a quiet spot early in the morning where I could see and hear birds and watch for deer on the verge.  For a cleft is a refuge, a place of safety and there I was safe with God, able to look at events and hurts and again forgive as I had been forgiven.

Still another refuge during that time was a ministry where I volunteered.  Just the change in atmosphere for a short time was all I needed to take hold of God and again face the struggle.

Next:  Would you like a Cleft of your own?

“The Cleft” Copyright 2001