Today’s Word: Dazzled

“In my deepest wound I found you, Lord, and it dazzled me.” St. Augustine

I write a lot, I realize, about this idea of “finding God.” A good deal of the time, this discovery comes down to seeing the divine in the beauty of the world around us, in the kindnesses of strangers and friends, in the sacred burning bush moments of everyday life. And, to be honest, that’s all pretty easy stuff, as long as we’re willing to sit still, be quiet for a while, and recall these moments of God that happen every day, like clockwork, whether or not we deign to pay attention. But good for us for paying attention. Keep at it, for it’s the beginning of all prayer.

But then along comes St. Augustine, reminding us that he found God not in some eye-widening sunset, not in some breathtaking act of charity, not in some simple moment of prayer, kneeling in his cell or chapel, although certainly he must have found God in those places and moments, just like the rest of us. He found God — and was “dazzled” by God — in his deepest wound.

That notion of being dazzled in our woundedness takes me back to a time about 12 years ago when I was undergoing chemotherapy for a rare blood disease and facing an uncertain future. I was wounded deeply, broken open, dog tired, and fearful of the darkness that is disease and treatment. I was most certainly not a picture of perfect faith — I place myself on no such pedestal — but I do know for sure, these dozen years later, that I certainly came face to face with God during those times and was amazed by the beauty of what I experienced.

This wasn’t for me a long and arduous expedition, hacking my way machete-like through the jungle of disease and healing looking for divine light. Rather, as it so often happens when we search for God, it was a simple turning of my head to find God right there…so close to me that I couldn’t tell my own breath from the breath of the Spirit that gives life. Nor does this have anything to do with ME. This was grace, a gift of pure and gentle mercy laid before me like a simple loaf of bread in the outstretched arms of God, the aroma unmistakable, the warmth so full of consolation.

So not for me dazzling fireworks as much as a certain and unmoving presence that whispered: “Here I am. You’re not alone.”

In my deepest wound I found you, Lord, and it comforted me.

Ask yourself in silence: What has been your deepest wound? Did you find God waiting for you there? What did you sense? If you did not, can you revisit that place and look again?