Chasing the Quiet

LETTING GO OF THE FORMULA 

God is in constant motion. He never sleeps. He is always working things out for our good. He flows around us, and through us, all at once roaring loudly and quietly whispering. There is nothing that can contain Him. Time does not exist in his presence.

How dare we try to impose such neat and tidiness on the wild mystery that is God. The Christian faith has been anything but tidy. Any habit or routine of sitting with Jesus must stem out of a craving for His presence, not out of superficial legalism, or self-imposed ‘shoulds.‘ We cannot reduce the greatest love story of all time to a formula. We cannot impose a structure on the Creator of the universe.

As a young mother, He called me to let go of the expectation or the ideal—to simply come, and spend time with Him. I entered into a season where I would squeeze in my time with Jesus during the 10 minutes of ‘Elmo’s World.’ Sometimes I would hold my son on my lap and continue to be with Jesus. It didn’t always work. At times the distractions won out. 

But, grace. 

I continued in this pattern when I had my daughter. Sitting with Jesus with my music, my journal, and my Bible, as my children were awake and nearby. While my old journals contain prayers and pleadings to my Heavenly Father, they also contain scribbles from my children. Even my Bible wears the pen marks of a child emulating their mama’s note-making.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was precious. It is good for my children to see me sit with Jesus. 

SHAMELESS ABIDING

A new facet of my relationship with Christ emerged. One that was reflexive and organic, where praying without ceasing began to happen without trying. 

Maybe this is abiding. Maybe in the swirling of branches, I had finally found the vine.

I don’t think God has ever meant for us to try so hard. Instead, we must honor the season we are in and the wiring with which our Creator has uniquely formed us. 

There have been times in my life when prayer and Bible Study have been impossibly painful. When a neat and tidy check-list contrasted revoltingly with my pain. In those days, prayerful, one-word utterances reached the ear of my Heavenly Father. There was a season that I could not find my own words to pray at all, so I prayed the Lord’s prayer over and over and over again. 

I have done in-depth Bible Studies with the multi-color highlighting and extensive note-taking. I have also swum the depths of Scripture written on post-it notes. I have worn ink on my palm that faded and smudged as I ruminated on small but potent words.

John Wesley’s mother, Susanna, raised ten children, including John. It is said that she spent roughly two hours every day with her kitchen apron flipped up over her head, in prayer. For me, I have found it helpful to have a set-aside space where I sit with Jesus. A tangible space where I can quickly enter into His presence.

I have gone from having a “Jesus chair,” to having a whole “Jesus room” (my children’s nickname for my living room). 

“Where are your shoes?”

“They’re in the Jesus room.”

But Jesus doesn’t stay in the Jesus room. He will expand past any borders you try to put on Him. I find myself in His presence while I’m in my minivan, and as I wait for the school bus. I have worshipped my face off while rocking my baby in the hush of her nursery. I have meditated on Scripture over the kitchen sink. And I find myself wanting more—more of His presence. A larger apron. 

The ordinary can so easily become sacred for anyone who loves the Savior.

I hope someday to finally fall into the rhythm of daily quiet time. In the meantime, I will live in freedom. I will adapt to the season I am in. I will be gentle and gracious with myself.

My hope is that my children will understand the importance of breathing in God’s presence. Of sitting at His feet. Of making room for quiet. In a chair. In a room. I hope they have a daily quiet time. I really do. But I also hope they live unbound as they see God at work in a world that never stops spinning. May they see that the Spirit that hovered over the waters is still bursting forth in creation—orchestrating, teaching, refusing to be confined by time or space or rules or expectations. 

In Him, we are no longer bound by ‘should.’ There is freedom in how we spend time with Him. In His vastness, He has eliminated any space left for shame. Grace speaks to shame saying, “no, she isn’t enough. But, I AM.” Learning to abide in the vine is a willingness to just be while recognizing our identity as one made in His image. When we grasp that life isn’t about who we are and what we do, but rather who He is and what He has done, we will find that shame no longer has a voice because we are in the presence of true freedom. 

And so, as those that love Him, we can simply go to Him, forgetting the constraints of space and time and life. We can dive freely into the roar of the quiet with the One who has no beginning and no end. The One who whispers, “Come to me. Abide with me.”

No matter what it may look like.