Shut in with God by Lindsay Preston

Isolation—imposed by self or others—begins as a state. A circumstance. The longer it lasts the larger it looms. The greater the threat, the sooner it takes on a spirit. An entity of sorts. Colourless, tasteless and odourless, but its mass, its weight, you really bend beneath it. On the back of a tribulation—be it virus, misfortune or oppression—it can be a killer.

Or an opportunity. 

As it was to Christ who became isolated many times. Isolated by self as he often retreated to pray. By self for forty days and nights when he embraced the wilderness. Isolated by others the night Judas kissed him, and when his flock scattered, then later when awaiting trial, and when awaiting execution. Even isolated by The Father that fateful ninth hour when he cried, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Oh to straighten up and raise our heads (Luke 21:28), praise The Lord in times of isolation. Embrace the command to enter the inner room (Matthew 6:6), close the door and be—like one hymn writer known only to Jehovah Jireh wrote—“shut in with God”. This is where the fearless gifts of the Spirit can be stirred up to bubbling (2 Timothy 1:6-7), ready to be poured out and flow into our communities—not naturally as an earthly river, but supernaturally, for these gifts are the streams of The Great I Am.

Shut in with God in a hotel in Dubai, I stroll the empty corridors, stand on our balcony gazing down to the quiet street, the swooping and perching of the birds with their songs reminding me of one who is forever present. Gaining new power, I am drawn to sing to Him. How Great Thou Art.

I became stirred to rewrite the verses to reflect my present experience. Perhaps you can rewrite the same to reflect your own experience, what you see and feel. And sing it in praise and worship to The One who is always there.

Oh Lord my God, when I in isolation
Consider I must trust in Thee alone
By faith I see you triumph over trial
Thy power still flows in fullness from Thy throne

Vacated floors and corridors I wander
Beyond closed door a child begins to sing
When I look down from terrace to a dead street
Thy cherished birds look for a crumb from me

Then sings my soul, my Saviour God to Thee
How great Thou art, how great Thou art
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God to Thee
How great Thou art, how great Thou art

And when I think, that in such isolation
The Holy Spirit comes still and fills the need
And Father God, and God the Son here reaching
To save a worm, I fall upon my knees

Then sings my soul, my Saviour God to Thee
How great Thou art, how great Thou art
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God to Thee
How great Thou art, how great Thou art