As elegantly thought-provoking as this title is, I can't take credit for the words. They were part of a testimony at a youth event I attended recently and the moment I heard them, I felt myself locking them away. Stay enchanted. There is something enigmatic about this reminder, something mysterious and alluring, striking in its truthfulness and intriguing in its ambiguity. Stay enchanted. What does that mean? In the context of this life and our relationship with God, what does it mean to be enchanted, let alone stay there?
For me, the words are inextricably linked to the speaker's testimony of waking up early to talk to God in the fragrance of a vanilla-scented candle. The candle part got my attention (as an amateur candle-maker, how could it not?) But the point is that there in the stillness, God spoke this reminder to stay enchanted. Enchanted with what, you ask? Try, with God—with who He is and what wonders He is working every time we draw breath.
I can't help but think that God expects the same thing from all of us, to some degree. But how often do we find ourselves in those quiet candle-lit moments where the wonder of God and the Holy Spirit feel more real than what we see, touch, want, and worry about?
A few weeks ago, a writer friend texted me a little encouragement when morale was low. She asked me what makes me remember why I love writing. Why am I writing the story I'm writing?
It was a simple question—a great question, actually. And it left me completely nonplussed.
It wasn't until later that night when I heard the call to stay enchanted that the answer clicked into place. I write because that is what keeps me enchanted. It is encountering God through stories—in the powerful allegorical moments, in the times when my characters and I are struggling side by side, in the bursts of inspiration and the gentle course corrections when the plot strays from my Author and Finisher—there, God enchants me with His awesomeness and presence. He enchants me with His story. And that's not the only place or time that He does so.
Think of the moments that root you in a profound awareness of God. Maybe your lungs feel full enough to burst and all you can do is stare at the beauty of creation—a glorious sunset, a mountain view, a sea of crashing waves. Maybe something is stinging behind your eyes, sprung up from nowhere on a wave of emotion. Maybe you can't help throwing your hands in the air and singing at the top of your lungs.
Maybe for you, that moment is as simple as a smile at the sky with no explanation and a quiet prayer of thanks to God for being all that He is.
Whatever that moment looks like, pay attention to it. Hold on to it. You have been enchanted. God has reached down into your life to remind you that He is with you and before you. He has painted the sky or the waves or the mountainside and placed you there, to find Him in the beauty. He has chosen this song for you, stirred up these emotions in you, or simply painted the smile on your lips and filled your heart with inexplicable praise.
Our God is a beautiful, personal, alluring, irresistible, utterly enchanting God. He creates moments for us to experience Him deeply, but those moments require our participation. They require us to be diligent, to seek Him out, to quiet our minds and be receptive to what He is whispering. They require us to put Him first and remember that however real the day-to-day may feel, God is more real. God is more, always.
Stay enchanted. Seek Him out today. Carve a moment from your day to forget everything but Him. Find a beautiful view, play that worship song, light a vanilla-scented candle—whatever helps you to clear the clutter and focus wholly on the wondrous God we serve. Dwell on His goodness until it enchants you. And when you walk away, take that enchantment with you.