“Don’t weave me!” This is Winston’s new thing. He just turned three yesterday and he’s recently started expressing his disinterest in me “weaving” him. It’s funny because it’s not when we are away from home — it’s when we are in our house. “Don’t weave me upstairs” or “Don’t weave me in the kitchen” or “Don’t weave me in the basement.” (Well, I guess I could understand that one). He never used to do this. He didn’t care back when he was just a 2-year-old, but now that he’s a fresh 3, he’s becoming rather paranoid. More often than not he just wants me to be near him. I’m totally OK with this. Sometimes, all he needs to know is that I’m there.

I just finished reading through Ezekiel last week. I’ll be honest, I struggle with the book of Ezekiel. The book begins with a description of a storm where monsters showed up and wheels appeared in the sky. There are brilliant lights, deafening sounds and floating sheets of metal wrapped in fire. It’s utterly bizarre.  The first chapter closes with the words, “Such was the appearance of the glory of the Lord.” It is a spectacular and shocking vision of God’s presence.

The book continues with Ezekiel on a mission. He is commanded to speak for God, whether the people listen or not, so those who hear him would know there was a prophet of God among them. Chapter after chapter is filled with visions and prophecies, judgments and laments. From chapter 40 on, we get a picture of the city and, specifically, its new temple with descriptions of rooms, walls, courts and gates.

Throughout the book you hear God’s voice and Ezekiel speaks for God but God still seems distant. It feels as if God is missing and I think we are supposed to feel this way. The prophecies and judgments were all drawing attention to the absence of God. Even in the description of the city and the temple, it just seems like someone is reading off the blueprint of an empty building — not proclaiming the filling presence of God’s Spirit. Even in the “house of God” He seems absent. There is an anxiety for me in reading this book.

Then Ezekiel gets to the end and tells us what the name of the city and because of what the name of the city is, I’m fine. I’m all good. For some reason I find peace in his final sentence. Ezekiel 48:35 says, “And the name of the city from that time on shall be, ‘The Lord Is There.’”  When I read that I immediately feel settled.

Sometimes, all we need to know is that God is there.

After Ezekiel’s descriptions of hollow hearts, open gates and empty rooms, we are filled by his final words. We get to the end and finally hear what we’ve been longing to feel: The reminder of God’s presence.

There is no reason to be afraid. No reason to be anxious. There is no reason to believe that God is absent. Wherever you are, God is there with you.

Sometimes, all you need to know is that God is there.

Sometimes, all I need is my son to remind me how much I should be calling out to God, “Don’t weave me!” Not because I believe He’ll leave, but because I know He’ll stay.