The grating sound of wood on tile reverberated in my ears as I dragged the footrest over to where I was sitting. Getting it into an acceptable position for my feet, I settled back into my faithful wingback IKEA chair. My husband and I had just discussed our need for a breakthrough from our lingering weariness. After he left for his meetings, I stayed a little longer in my chair.

The clock was ticking, as it does in my mind every morning I get the kids off to school and preschool. I had my ever-increasing to-do list to tackle, but I felt the stirring need to not move on so quickly.

I’ve often prided myself on my ability to handle a lot on my plate, but over the past year, I’ve found that my capacity has decreased.

I imagine it has to do with the different rhythms that have developed over five and half years of living on this island of Fire and Ice known as Iceland. Perhaps, the intensity of elements like constant winds, blizzards, lava eruptions, and even the months of midnight sun, have shaped me into a different type of vessel in this season. Maybe the doings on that to-do list of the past year depleted me more than I realized — or wanted to admit.

Or maybe I was just plain tired.

Maybe I didn’t need to jump so quickly into asking the Lord for a breakthrough when really what I needed was a moment to allow the Holy Spirit to take a good look through me. So I lingered in my chair, not hurrying to fill the silence saturating that sliver of margin with one more thing, no matter how small.

When was the last time I gave myself permission to just be amid the wrestle? Not automatically jumping to an outcome and a way out, but just laying myself before the Lord. Giving Him free rein to check my motives and agendas. I needed the Holy Spirit to shine a light on the places in my life that were in need of some mending. I needed Him to dig out the roots that were causing me to stumble into striving, instead of dwelling, abiding.

In that infinitesimal but eternal margin, I needed to linger and meet God.

There is a story in Scripture that has always fascinated and challenged me. We know that Moses was considered a friend of God and did incredible things out of the overflow of that relationship. Likewise, his assistant Joshua accomplished amazing feats. But what sticks with me about Joshua is not his faith or how he courageously led the defeat of Jericho.

What lingers with me is how Joshua lingered with God.

“The Lord would speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend. Then Moses would return to the camp, but his young aide Joshua son of Nun did not leave the tent.”
Exodus 33:11 NIV 

Amidst what I’m sure was constant activity and the pressure of leadership, Joshua didn’t hurry away from God’s presence. He stayed in the tent, even after Moses departed, dwelling with God. I envision him resting in the shadow of ancient wings, turning his heart towards worship and wonder as he soaked up the lingering aroma of the King of the universe.

I don’t have any plans in the near future to install a tabernacle of sorts in my front yard. I’m sure that structure wouldn’t last long in these Nordic winds anyway. But thank You, Jesus, that because of shed blood and a torn veil, lingering with You is no longer about a physical place but about the position of our hearts.

In our very next breath, before the inhale, between, and after the exhale, He is here. The great I Am creating space within our moments and slivers to be with Him. Right there, where we are…

• Placing our hands in sinks of soapy water, washing the dishes that never run dry.
• Running to the next gathering to encourage the sphere of influence we’ve been given and pausing a moment in our cars.
• Finding a second to breathe before the tasks of the day greet us, a certain ache in our hearts from stretching out towards what seems beyond our grasp.
• Embracing the joy that filters in after a long night with the rising of the morning sun.
• Facing a period of grief unspeakable, pain too piercing to bear.

Lord, help us not to rush past these moments. You are as close as our next breath. We will linger and meet You there.

Friend, what moments will become a meeting place for you today?

 

This article is from the (in)courage archives and originally ran in 2024.

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