I’ve been feeling it again. That low-grade ache of discontentment. That inner restlessness, nagging, gnawing, something softly knocking. That unnamed longing for something more even on days I finally catch my breath, catch up on laundry, or make it to bedtime without being called a mean mean mommy.
I don’t know why it takes me so long to recognize the source — God’s still small voice. Calling yet again to return to Him, spend time with Him.
I’ve been choosing the trap of glowing screens and too many late-night scrolling minutes. (Whoa, where did the last hour go?) I like to be alone. Alone with my thoughts. Alone in my uninterrupted bubble, an insulated reprieve from all the demands and needs. I like to be alone — yet tethered to a gazillion disconnected friends. (Cute cat! Sad story. Hey, she’s pregnant again! ) Is vegging out such a sin?
The evidence of my choice shows up the next morning in dark undereye circles and two more snooze cycles. Do I have to drag myself awake?
I’m too tired and distracted to hear Him call: Come to me. Connect with me.
(Can you relate? Have been you been there? Are you there today?)
It’s not like I don’t read my Bible. It’s not like I don’t pray. I’m good with God. We talk throughout the day. I’m okay.
But what if doing enough to spiritually get by isn’t the point?
I’m finally listening to my longing and admitting that there’s something in my lived-out priorities that’s outta whack. My soul hungers for more. And more social media, more sleep, more viral videos, more home organization, more activities or mindless TV isn’t going to cut it. You and I were made for more.
We were cut out for divine connection.
Created for intimacy.
Hand-picked for relationship.
Sculpted for surrender.
Wired for worship.
We’ve all got a God-sized gap that no other gods can fill.
We’ve got to recognize the ways we’ve been trying—and stop. Say no to what pulls us away from the Gap-Filler and instead press into Him.
I set my alarm earlier than my comfort. Set out games and puzzles for my kids should Murphy’s Law reign and they wake extra early too. Time protection in preparation. I decide what I’m going to read, place my journal and Bible on top of my laptop lest I autopilot-forget my purpose and fly right into work. Time protection in expectation.
Before I go to bed I remind myself of what is true:
The law of the Lord is perfect, refreshing the soul.
The statutes of the Lord are trustworthy, making wise the simple. (Psalm 19:7)
In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice;
in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly. (Psalm 5:3)
Inviting God to fill the place in our lives only He’s made for isn’t a one-size-fits-all formula. There’s no right or wrong way to spend time with Jesus. But for me, I’ve found nothing better than to start my day with Him. In God’s Word. At Jesus’s feet. Pen to paper. Recording and remembering. Listening.
He’s never not shown up to meet with me.
The struggles of our lives, the crises, and daily grind are real. The urgent things that demand immediate doing, the desirous things that draw us to their company, the attention-grabbing things that feel in-the-moment important but lack eternal significance — I get it. I get all of it.
But living consumed by the struggle is not the life I want.
I choose again to change. Again, I choose Him.
Before the sun has yet to run its horizon-rising course, I will come. With gook in my eyes and a stiff morning back, I will come.
When I reach for my alarm, I remind myself that I’m not getting up for Facebook or Instagram or email. As I pull the chain on my stained glass desk lamp — flooding the darkness with light — I remind myself I’m not rising early for productivity, to check more off my list.
I rise for Him.
“Those who know your name trust in you, for you, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek you.”