Journeying to Grace

Do you have a place you go to think, pray, or meditate where time seems to stand still while you’re there? I have a short list of places; one of them happens to be the steam room at my neighborhood recreation center. I look forward to going there following a little work in the swimming pool. Once in a while, I’m in the steam room by myself. Those occasions can provide a special space to breathe and wonder and listen.

Not long ago, I entered the steam room which seemed especially thick with steam. I headed to my usual corner, pleased not to see anyone else there. Though I took some time to clear my mind, struggles soon came to the forefront. I interrupted them with thoughts of positive things—things I’m very thankful for. Then those struggles and what burdened me came back. With that, I felt noticeably alone in that corner. Typically I have a more peaceful exchange of thoughts, so I was especially troubled to be overcome with this unexpected feeling. Then after several minutes, and as discouragement attempted to work within me, two things happened. First: I was surprised to suddenly see a quiet figure from the opposite corner of the steam room walk to the door and leave. The steam was so thick, I hadn’t seen him—I truly thought, and felt, I had been alone. In reflecting on that moment, I couldn’t help but make the obvious comparison. He was there even though I couldn’t see him. Since I couldn’t see anyone, I thought I was alone. Since I couldn’t hear anything but my own distracting thoughts, I felt alone. For a time, I sat in desolation in a corner instead of in the consolation and comfort of the God who I know loves me and who is there even though I can’t see him. That is his promise, as we recall:

‘Do not fear: I am with you.’ (Is 41:10)

‘… behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.’ (Matt 28:20)

‘Do not fear nor be dismayed, for the Lord, your God, is with you wherever you go.’ (Jos 1:9)

Second: The dutiful lifeguard opened the door to quickly ask if everyone in the steam room (at the time, just me) was ‘okay.’ Though it’s a standard safety measure, I reflected on that moment and its obvious comparison as well. A voice of care, a voice sent to check on me, a voice that showed me I wasn’t alone. It caused me to ask myself, whose voices has God sent me? And to whom can I be that voice of care, that reminder that God is there even if we can’t see Him?

I knew that visit to the steam room had been physically healing when I moved my neck without discomfort. It had been spiritually healing when I walked away from the corner, no longer feeling alone. When we find those places of prayer where time seems to stand still, let us seek the consolation of God’s merciful love and grace and ask Him where we can be His healing voice to others.