The Unknown Language of the Soul: Embracing God’s Design
There is a deep longing in every soul to be heard, known, and understood by another. It quenches a thirst and fills a hunger as nothing else can. The human’s desire for love through connection in this way is not an accident; it is a part of the intentional design of a Relational Creator. We desire connection with other humans, but we also desire a connection with God (Psalm 42, Psalm 63, John 6:25, Isaiah 55)
Through my life’s quest to understand and question the human condition, its purpose, meaning, and significance, I’ve come to the realization there are many, many parts of my own soul that cannot be touched, understood, or reached through connection with other humans or even through self-revelation/self-realization. I find in myself with an “other-world” longing and hunger which is always foraging for food from a foreign land beyond the stars.
Through one specific, spiritual encounter with my very Relational God, he allowed me to discover a place in my soul that’s like a huge library. This library is full of books I long for other humans, myself, and God to come and read so that I become understood, known, and loved. There are many sections in this library of my soul. There’s a section of collected memories and experiences. A section of pain, loss, disappointment, and grief. A section of wondering, seeking, and searching. A section of hopes and dreams. A section of laughter, silliness, and restored childlikeness. A section of books specifically to be given away. A section of private secrets only meant for me to read. There is a section of books God and I have read together and even written together. There are many other sections I have explored and others I have not.
During this encounter with God, I saw a whole section of books inside my soul that he himself stood before and I knew nothing about them. As he looked them over, touched their spines, enjoyed their fragrance, he pulled out one book. As he opened it, I saw it was full of words from a language I did not know. And as he ran his fingers over the letters, I soon noticed this language was also written in braille. Mysteriously, as he ‘read’ the words in this foreign language written for the blind, it was as if an undiscovered land inside me began to melt into the glorious feeling of being known, loved, heard, and…read. I began to weep with soul-nourishing cries of a beloved one experiencing ‘known-ness’ by her Relational, Beloved Creator God and Savior. I wept and wept with gratitude, as fulfillment, meaning, and connectedness coursed through my whole being.
I came to realize this section of books God placed in me was intended not for me to know, but for him to know. This unknown language was intentionally created to bring us closer together. It has something to do with the “other-world” longing in me as well as letting go of the desire to know the unknowable. It is a nourishing mystery when our Beloved, Relational God reads the unknown language of our soul.
As I grow in trusting my Everlasting God (Isaiah 26:3, Romans 8:28, Deuteronomy 32:7) and reside in intertwinement with him (John 15), I enjoy the “other-world” mysteries and realities his presence brings (Psalm 16:11). And I also relax my grip on knowing the unknowable (1 Corinthians 13:12) and simply rest in the realty that My God knows. He is the one and only God who resides over everything unknown (Psalm 139, Psalm 147:4-5, Psalm 33:13-15). I have become content in this fact.
This painting represents the Unknown Language I believe God intentionally put in every human soul. It is written on our hearts and meant for our Beloved, Creator God to come and enjoy in its reading (Song of Solomon 4:17). And in so doing we, as created beings, are invited to let go of our deepest self, to trust, allowing ourselves to be known by Him and simply take his hand as he leads us into the Sacred Dance. It is a nourishing mystery when our Beloved, Relational God reads the unknown language of our soul.
Words Like Lanterns
Nanci Stoeffler
She led him into
the circular room
on the left.
The moonlight fell
across his face,
as he breathed deeply.
His eyes patterned
over the rows
reading each spine;
his hands
slowly ran across them
as if to draw back
a theatre curtain.
He chose to reach
for one volume.
Just one.
Touching each page,
he lit words like lanterns
until the face
he came to read,
shown.
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