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 the good days when 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 digital bubble, an insulated reprieve from all the demands and needs. I like to be alone, yet I tether myself to the noise of hundreds of friends I don’t know beyond a screen. Cute cat! Sad story. Look who’s pregnant or moving or getting a promotion!
The evidence of my choice to indulge in digital vegging shows up the next morning in dark under eye circles and two more snooze cycles. It’s a chore to drag myself awake.
I’m too tired and distracted to hear God call: Come to me. Connect with me.
Can you relate? Have been you been there? Are you there today?
Now, 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 aren’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 to let them — 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 says to. I remind my kids about our no TV rule before school and to read in bed if they wake up early (Murphy’s Law says if I get up early, someone else will 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 drift off to sleep I remind myself of what is true:
In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice;
in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly.
Psalm 5:3 (NIV)
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 we don’t have to live consumed by the noise that is not His voice.
Before the sun has yet to run its horizon-rising course, I will come. With gunk 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.
Psalm 9:10 (NIV)
We don't have to live consumed by the noise that is not His voice. -@beckykeife: Click To Tweet