I struggle to make time for God.
Traditionally, I tend to fling myself at Him in moments of sheer joy or utter devastation. So I’m either profusely thankful or bitterly angry.
How fun for Him.
I’ve noticed that in the fleeting moments I rest between those two extremes, He really tries to make it count.
Today I was driving home with my little bean in the backseat. He was unhappy, I was unhappy. He was tired, I was tired. He was swinging around a plastic golf club, I was trying to avoid getting hit with it.
Same old, same old.
As I speedily pulled off at our exit, I tuned the radio to a local station.
Like a love-struck boy who had been waiting by the phone all day, God seized the moment:
“It’s her! I’ve been waiting all week! What should I say? Oh, I need to make sure it’s perfect. I need to tell her exactly how I feel . . ”
The next four songs that played completely disarmed me; they captured the shattering of my little world this past month so vividly. So personally. They spoke of the hurt and pain and loss that have taken up permanent residence in my heart, when I want nothing more than to pretend it’s just passing through on it’s way to someone else. I felt my fragile little soul crack open, and every ounce of fear flow out into the light. And my Creator gently sang over me. A song of grief, a song of love, a song of hope.
By the time I had turned in to our narrow garage, I was full out ugly crying.
My shoulders shook as I leaned over the steering wheel and whispered,
I pulled Ash onto my lap and squeezed him for the full 10 seconds he allowed me before grabbing the steering wheel and repeatedly laying on the horn.
I often carry guilt over not dedicating more of my time to devotions. Or Biblical study. Or prayer. Ironically, this guilt never translates into me spending more time with God. I pull away out of shame.
But today I was reminded (again) that I don’t need to go hide in my pit of guilt and shame and condemnation.
Because He only needs 5 minutes.
And even if I give Him the teensiest, most pathetic opening, He’ll meet me where I’m at.
I’ve been so afraid, afraid to close my eyes
So much can slip away before I say goodbye.
But if there’s no other way, I’m done asking why.
Cause I’m on my knees, begging You to turn to me
I’m on my knees, Father will you run to me?
Hold My Heart, Tenth Avenue North