BLOG: Here am I, Lord

I rolled over and my eye caught the sliver of sun that was beginning to penetrate the window near my bed. I immediately knew I'd overslept.

It was the start of a new week and I had gone to sleep so hopeful about getting back into a rhythm. Evacuation always throws things off and it's a struggle to settle in and find a flow. I'd been determined and had my alarm set according to my plan for the following day.

But then my body protested and demanded I sleep longer than I meant to, without consulting me. My day felt wrecked, which wasn't at all a dramatic overresponse to such a slight delay.

I got up and found it hard to slow my brain enough to sit with God in worship. As I was reading the Scripture passages in front of me that morning, I found it all jumbling together. I paused and asked God to help steady my mind so I could focus and then went back to reading. Forty minutes later, I closed the pages of my Bible. I knew a bit more about the seals in Revelation 6 than I had when I'd sat down, but I still felt frustrated that it was all such a struggle.

A little later, as I walked on the mostly dried out path around our pond, I talked with God about what I'd read and about my family and the work here and our friends around the world and current events ... it all made my prayer seem like wild chatter where I barely gave God a chance to speak.

I walked back to my porch, slipped out of my shoes (like you do in Asia), and stepped over the cement barrier in my doorway that helps to keep out unwanted critters (here's looking at you family of cobras who moved into our space uninvited!). I walked into my kitchen and began to clean. I cleaned until I was satisfied, while answering the continuous peppering of questions that come at me in a day. I directed kids in how they could help and reminded them houses are for inside voices and also that running is an outdoor sport.

Their joy filled the space.

We had to run errands and so 11 kids (a number of our children are currently visiting family) and 7 adults piled into the van and we bumped along to town. Would it have been easier to have an adult stay with the kids instead of taking them? 1000%. But sometimes the task is simply giving them real family life and sometimes that includes running errands with kids.

We arrived home, accomplished and hot, with multiple sleeping children.

The remainder of the day was spent encouraging kindness, drying tears, and talking about good vs. bad choices. Sometimes a child, sweaty and dirty from play, needed pulled onto a lap for the kind of reassurance that a few minutes of quiet rocking can accomplish in a way words never can.

Around nightfall, we gathered into our little sauna of a chapel to end our day with worship. A time of worship that, you guessed it, felt more chaotic than I wanted it to. Small bodies squirmed in the humid air, papers were swinging in front of damp little faces in an attempt to provide relief. Attention spans were short and the singing was off-tune.

We closed with prayer and everyone filed out into the night before making their way to the house to play a little before bed. We walked, looking for snakes on our path, and talking about the moon. Always, a little voice is eager to remind us that God made the sky and everything in it. We dodged some still muddy spots in front of the house, walked past the talking bird who lives in an aviary right at our entryway, and then we hurried to shut the door behind us before the swarms of mosquitos in pursuit of the light made their way in.

The children spread out in front of baskets with legos, and pulled out bags with small animals. Fahsai plopped onto her usual spot on the floor in front of the big bookcase and pulled off the Bible story picture books she never tires of looking at. A few kids gathered into the back room, stretched out a rope made of rubber bands looped together, and proceeded to play a game exactly the opposite of limbo. A stray child or two popped up periodically to inform me how hungry or thirsty they were.

The time passed and they were called to clean up. Once the house was put back in order, they collected their hugs, traded I love yous, and headed for bed.

Quiet fell on the house. Much needed quiet. And in the quietness, I could see so clearly how God saw all the noise that had surrounded us that day. It was fleeting, so I only got a glimpse. So brief a glimpse, in fact, that it's hard to put words to it.

But what He showed me was that where I see chaos, God sees people. Where I hear noise, God hears children. Where I see a mess, God sees life. Where I see frustration, God sees the need for grace. Where I see efforts that have fallen flat, God sees an offering that wasn't wasted.

The time I'd spent with Him that morning had felt scattered. It felt like I couldn't focus and so I'd had to fight to stay present. I had a lot rolling around in my mind and it felt like it spewed out at Him as I walked.

He was listening. He heard every word and He saw every ounce of fight that went into my desire to be in communion with Him.

And then He spent the whole rest of the day talking back to me. Leading me when I felt impatient. Slowing me when I wanted to shush a child who needed instead to be heard. Warning me when I was choosing wrong. Encouraging me that the day would end and I would get to rest ... but I would never get the chance to do that particular day over again.

The world sells us love sick romanticism and so we look for the counterfeit while missing the real. Christianity sells us emotionalism and so we look to our feelings while losing sight of our Guide. Social media sells us highlight reels by which we compare and contrast ourselves and it steals our joy and our contentment.

A Christian influencer might be able to wake up and snuggle in to read her Bible with a fuzzy blanket and a carefully crafted cup of tea near a flickering candle in a quiet house. It may appear, on camera, to be the most peaceful and fulfilling time of worship possible and so Satan then insists this is the way it must be in order for it to truly be worship at all. Anything less doesn't count, he'll tell you. So we derail ourselves striving for a standard that simply isn't Biblical. Because where do we find such a scene in Scripture?

What I do see in Scripture is people who fought for their time with God. I see Jacob who wrestled an angel. I see Mary who made her sister mad. I see Daniel who defied the law of the land. I see Joseph who worshipped in prison. I see Ruth who left her family to seek and serve God.

I see Jesus who sought quiet with His Father and was followed instead.

I certainly don't think it's wrong to have your time of worship in a quiet, controlled atmosphere. In fact, I'd love to be able to do it. But if my focus becomes creating it at all cost, I lose the point of the experience entirely.

God wants us in pursuit of Him, not a specific set of circumstances.

He wants us to come to Him when our minds are swirling just as much as when our minds are calm.

He wants us at His feet in the quiet and also in the chaos.

He wants that first communion and He also wants the last. He wants the moments in between because He knows we need Him and not because He's an attention-seeking task master ... He knows if we let go, it's not as easy for Him to help us.

Life is worship. But it's up to us to decide who we're worshipping with our lives.

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