Own. this. thing.

Own. this. thing. January, 2019.

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Remembering another time, another day I wrote . . . another day with great application to today. By the way, www.pastorwoman.comis filled with hundreds are archived written and podcast form Morning Briefings!

It seems like a long time since I heard the Lord speak into my heart, 'You are my beloved...in you, I am well pleased.' It seems like a long time because in all honesty, it has been a long time. I know that God has chosen to dwell within me, his child, and yet, I have almost closed off his voice because I have given him very little quiet in which I might hear him speak-just little bits here and there. Can we tawk? Maybe my honesty will help someone else.

What happened? Perhaps in a small way, I became the older brother in the prodigal son story. I suppose at different times in my adult life, I have assumed each of the three roles in this powerful Luke 15 story that Jesus told us-the one who ran away from love, the one who stayed and thought his faithfulness would be rewarded, and the loving, forgiving father, too-if this one or that one would only just come back!! The older brother? Yes, while not jealous of a younger 'prodigal' who was unjustly favored, in spite of his unfaithfulness, I took some things for granted.

You see, for as long as I can remember, for many years now, I got up an hour before the rest of my household to spend time with my Father in prayer. At first, I needed to set an alarm, but with just a little practice, my body awakened on its own, ready to meet with the Lord. As I prepared my cup of Peet's Italian Roast, I would picture the Lord sitting on a garden bench, awaiting my arrival . . . I wouldst not, I shouldst not disappoint my Lord!

That whole scene called to me-actually, it beckoned me. It also reminded me of a similar emotion I experienced as a very young child. My mother would drop me off at my first school, Landmark Baptist School in Hayward, California; I felt so bereft as she drove out of the parking lot that I would stand and watch until I could no longer glimpse the tail end of her long car round the corner, and head for the freeway. Only then would I realize she was gone, and sense that I must be a big girl and carry on without her.

On these intimate mornings with the Lord, I would picture him waiting on the garden bench for my arrival-that is until he could wait no longer, in the realization that I was simply not coming that day. But not wanting to keep my precious Savior watching and waiting, I seldom failed to bring my cup of coffee to meet with him in the garden. Once there, I would read a little Scripture, and then I would commune with him in prayer. I would pray, usually writing my prayer in a lined journal, and then I would listen; so often, I sensed he said that to me-'you are my beloved; in you, I am well pleased'.

I have not heard those words in a while . . . 'the reason? I stopped going to meet the Lord in such a way. I allowed something good to take the place of my garden time with the Lord -- study of his word, so that I could write my Morning Briefings. I have set such a strenuous writing schema for myself for two-plus years now, that it requires the utmost discipline in order to accomplish it. 'Sounds equally important, now doesn't it-studying God's Word, so as to be able to share it with others, worldwide? Well, it was . . . it is, EXCEPT, I just haven't been able to eke out an equally quiet, equally intimate time of prayer as that first uninterrupted hour of the day.

And so, I find myself fitting in prayer - you know, fitting in a little here, a little there . . . of course, knowing that my Father inhabits the prayer of his child whenever I come to him. He wasn't the problem . . . I was. You see, I have come to realize that while God needs nothing from me in order to be complete, I do need intimacy with him in order to be complete.

In that intimate place, I know, I sense his unequivocal love for me. It is in that love I have lacked - not because it wasn't there, but because 
~> ~> ~>I hadn't entered into it.

Again, I turn to Nouwen's Prodigal Son: "Over and over again I have left home. I have fled the hands of blessing and run off to faraway places searching for love! Why should I leave the place where all I need to hear can be heard? ...I realize that the true voice of love is a very soft and gentle voice speaking to me in the most hidden places of my being. And...it is a voice that can only be heard by those who allow themselves to be touched." Now, enter a situation that causes emotional pain and distress . . . [what enters your daily world ... sales quotients? Mental illness--your own or your child's? Cancer diagnosis or treatment? Pressure, stress . . . just what is it?]

Who is your first call, so to speak? To whom do you run? Unfortunately, there have been so many times I did not run to the Lover of my Soul because I had lost the sense of closeness with him. Had he moved? No, Sir-I had. Had I lost the love of God? No, never.

Friends, we can know with our minds that God loves us, but we must know it in our souls. It only gets in our souls through intimate communication with God . . . uninterrupted time spent alone with him.

Can't know his love without being with him . . . just sayin'.
Give him a little time in the morning??

Christine

PastorWoman.com