Like the day drawing to night—
fearing death, finding life—
give me the grace to move toward you
when my instinct is to run,
to evade the shyness that comes
when perceived by pure Light.
Teach me to abide.

Like the branch in its vine—
resting loose, resting tight—
give me the grace to trust you.
when my instinct is to doubt,
to comply with deceptions that come
as my faith is made sight.
Teach me to abide.

Draw me to the well, even when it seems dry.
When I’m in the office with deadlines and demands
or at the kitchen sink with soapy hands;
when I’m in the mechanic’s shop with wrecked plans
or at the graveside with a soldiered stance,
teach me to abide.

Here is my angst, my tendency to hide,
my engrained compulsion to control.
Here is my armor, my enshrined pride,
my fear of getting hurt or left behind.

Here are my woundings, O Healer,
and failures, O Redeemer.
I am yours and you are mine;
teach me to abide.

Read John 14-15 and 1 John 4


The apostle John often uses the word abide (Greek, meno) as part of a broader metaphor that describes the indwelling presence of God—that is, his continual influence and power in the soul. When his Spirit and Word are established permanently within the soul and that soul yields to God’s continual influence and power, the believer is “abiding” in God. She receives him, and gives herself to him, in a mutuality of surrender.


What activities, people, or things increase my awareness and experience of abiding?

Amy Leigh is a writer, landscape designer, organizational development specialist, and teacher living in Dallas, Texas. Her articles address themes in faith, culture, creation, the church, theology of the body, theology of women, and relationships.

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