When I lose my phone, I do it in a big way. About a year and a half ago I bought a purple cover for my phone so I wouldn’t “lose it in plain sight,” so it would stand out in my purse or on the kitchen counter.
Two days later, I lost it, never to be found. This past weekend, at my in-laws’ house in Indiana, I lost another one. Dave and I had taken our younger three for a hike in the woods. I put my phone in the pocket of my jacket before we left. We clambered up fallen trees, ran down trails, and crossed streams, and I’m guessing it fell out at some point in our wanderings. I didn’t even miss it until the following day—after it snowed five inches.
But since I discovered its loss, I have been thinking of my phone constantly. I have looked for it in my car, in my purse, under the bed at my in-laws, even in the parking lot outside the woods where we hiked—scraping snow from the blacktop. Even now, when we are back at our house, I find my eyes seeking it in places it really cannot be.
What if I looked for God like that? What if I searched for Him throughout my day? What if He were an undercurrent in my thoughts the same way my phone is right now—never far from the surface of my mind? What if my eyes were always catching glimpses of him—like I caught glimpses of purple when I was looking for my purple-clad phone last year?
‘Cause here’s the thing: unlike my phone, God wants to be found. He delights in being found. He throws parties when He is “found.” He’s the worst hide-and-seek “it” ever, like the small child who calls out from his hiding spot: “I’m over here! Come find me!”
Have you lost sight of Him? Start looking. With all your heart! Search for Him through the pages of His Book, quiet your heart to listen for His gentle whispers, read His glory declared by the skies.
He will be found.