You wake up in the morning, having slept on a cold hard floor next to a King-sized mattress with 600 ct. sheets and a down comforter.
You’ve slept in the clothes you wore all day yesterday. They are wrinkled. You smell yesterday’s odors and itch at yesterday’s grime. Hanging in a closet are pressed, clean clothes, ready to slip on.
You walk by the bathroom, where inside waits a tub filled with hot, soapy water. You go in just long enough to splash cold water on your face and scrub it dry with a paper towel. A thick comfy towel hangs nearby.
You rush into the kitchen. On the table sits a hot breakfast, ready to nurture your body. You grab a cup of cold coffee and processed breakfast bar.
As you climb in the car, you wonder.
Why do I feel so grimy? Why am I so tired?
Why does it have to be like this?
This week we found a quiet place.
One woman found it in the back of the semi truck compartment. It’s just a few moments, but since she and her husband work on the road, it’s all she has.
Another is slipping into an over-sized closet and kneeling on the carpet.
One created a prayer room. Another is sitting on her back porch watching the fall leaves begin to turn.
This morning mine was in a 2-year-old’s play room. My car is in a shop and I couldn’t go to the little community prayer room, so I waited until Luke and his mom were out and I closed the door to be alone with God. In the midst of toys and a random shoe and a bed temporarily crammed into a corner, I knelt.
This week we are practicing the art of being still.
I’m so distracted, one said.
All I could think of was what I needed to do, said another.
It took time, but then I started to sense God, said one.
And yet, you remain, because you desperately want more of God. Being still is an art. Something we practice. Something that comes with time. Something we don’t give up on. . .
Because we don’t want to be that person in the story.
Who rushes past the spiritual rest she needs so badly.
Who wears the old of Sunday, and by Friday it’s not enough.
Who splashes her faces with a little and feeds her souls with meager offerings, when she is created to be filled, full, overflowing.
Yes, there are those wilderness experiences, those times we dig deep to pull up the reserve to nurture and sustain us.
But for most of us, that’s now where we are the most empty. For in those times we are so desperately aware of our need, that we reach out.
It’s in the every day that our need surfaces, and we might not even be aware of why we feel the way we do.
I want you to know that I’m not posting ahead. I’m walking through this with you. There’s no agenda. I’m not trying to sell a book, or build a platform. I’m just so hungry for my Jesus and I don’t want to be the person in that story.
I know there are others who feel the same way I do.
Read John 4:14.
Today, in your still time with God, write this verse down in your journal.
Meditate on this verse. Consider the rest He offers. The nourishment He’s offering. The cleansing that He pours out because of the cross.
What do you need from Him?
Share that need honestly in your journal.
In today’s still place, lift up your heart. Show Him your need. Thank Him without words for what He wants to give you.