Tag Archives: center

A Finger to My Lips

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What pulls at me today, daring to suggest my calm and holy center is not where I belong? Emotions roll like a ball in one of those handheld mazes, frozen in place as I s-l-o-w-l-y tip the maze, then a lightning-quick roll to the far corner before I can steady my hand.

So, what is pulling today?

Fear of disappointing my husband.

Heaviness from the impenetrable docket of housekeeping chores.

Despair over how my daughters have been treating each other.

Anxiety that I am a split second away from disappointing myself or someone else.

Terror because I am not in control of my inner world, or my outer world.

Is speeding up is the answer? More lists, more timekeeping, more discipline? No, because speed propels me out of my center, into the fears and despair.

The call is to slow down. Slowness requires trust—of myself, God, the people around me. Trust of time and the universe. What precedes trust? Willingness to accept a variety of outcomes, and to receive that I am well-loved in all of them.

Beginning at the end of myself, I find my way back to the beginning, receive the wideness of love, prevalent as air. As I breathe in love, I trust the intrinsic goodness of myself and others. I give up trust in outcomes and good behavior.

I choose slowness as an embodied reflection of my still and holy center. This is different than the stubborn slowness I use to distance myself from the needs of others, or the sullen slowness meant to display my tired and long-suffering soul.

With a playful but firm finger to my fretting lips, God intervenes. My churning heart stills once again in the embrace of grace and abundance. I am called to “unforced rhythms of grace,” where the daily cadence of faithfulness takes place within the finished song of grace.

~Scripture quote in the final paragraph is from Matthew 11:28-30 MSG: “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

Molten God

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Molten God

Blessed are You,
Lord our God,
King of the Universe,
for this planet
made of layers,
from fiery liquid center
to outer crust,
with animals and humans
like a cherry on top.

Blessed are You
for Your presence in all the layers,
from burning core
to ants harvesting crumbs
from a picnic at the surface.

Blessed are You,
Lord our God,
King of the Universe, for You:
my faithful, fiery center,
unaffected by crusty circumstances.
You are my depths,
each layer inseparable from the next.
You are molten love
in even the most frigid times.
I am grounded in You,
deep beyond my ability to pollute.
No matter how far I run,
I am the same distance from the core.
You are faithful center.

Cohabiting With God

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I have spent much time at the frazzled edges of my life, floundering in feelings, confused, overwhelmed. Only recently have I become aware that I have a center: a place to come back to, where I always belong, and where my value is not hanging in the balance.

One day last November I settled in my prayer chair with a handful of stressful dreams still on my mind. I felt overwhelmed and tired, but I didn’t want to dwell on that and get bogged down. I sang quietly. Somehow I expressed a desire for companionship: I didn’t need to be happy, but to know I was not alone. And a very clear impression came to me of a simple bedroom in my heart, with Jesus in it. It was a small room, and Jesus sat on a single bed with a white bedspread. This verse came to mind: “Then Christ will make His home in your hearts as you trust in Him” (Ephesians 3:17a, NLT). And I just sat there and enjoyed His companionship for a while—I don’t know how long, maybe half an hour. We didn’t say much. Having typically felt the need to be talking —either in my head or out loud—when I sit with Jesus, this long stretch of quiet companionship was a new experience. It was lovely and life-giving, like sitting with your head on the shoulder of a loved one and just breathing in the quiet acceptance of that space.

This awareness of Jesus in me has captivated me with peaceful excitement. After that first impression I returned to the image of Jesus seated on His bed in my heart over and over. I realized there was a second bed on the wall facing Jesus’ bed, and that it was for me to rest in, or a place to sit and talk with Jesus. “Christ in me, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:27).

Somehow in this brief moment—this mental image—Jesus went from being “out there” to being “in here.” This reminds me of an experience I had last fall when I was getting quiet in the mornings: I would take a moment to pay attention to what was in my very center, and find great peace there—as if God was in me and I simply needed to pay attention. This knowing that I am centered in the love and presence of Jesus is exhilarating. It has power (He has power) over the frantic and fearful state that has often been my identity.

It’s kind of like the eye of a storm, except that the calm center trumps the destruction around it. It is the Truth, and it has the final say. This is Jesus’ bedroom in my heart: a Presence that embodies tenderness; an open door; an extra bed for me to flop down on. Chaos and lies stop at the door, because Jesus emptied Himself (Philippians 2:7, ESV) to purchase this holy space for me. And even Chaos and Evil know that this Love is the greatest power in the universe. They respect Love’s jurisdiction. (James 2:19)

I am holy (Colossians 3:12, NIRV). This holy center, like the smooth innards of a chocolate truffle, is as pleasurable as it is satisfying. Every moment, I am gifted this opportunity to “taste and see that the Lord is good” (Psalm 34:8a); to know God as provider (Philippians 4:19), identity (1 Corinthians 2:16), and refuge (Psalm 46:1).

God who is Ever-Present, Emmanuel: this is miracle of miracles. From heaven, to earth, to the hearts of humans, this Love moves always toward us, desiring intimacy, inviting little us into the holy enormity of oneness (John 17:21). And so I come to know that I am not on the fringes, not on the outside waiting to be let in, but already inside. Holy. Whole. Free from the clutches of confusion and shame. Alive.

God’s life has literally taken up residence inside me (1 John 4:15, 16). Big God living in little me (Romans 8:11). I am His home address. And He is my riches (Ephesians 3:8), my fullness (Ephesians 3:19), my friend (John 15:15), sibling (Romans 8:29, NIV), and parent (2 Corinthians 6:18)—relating to me in every way possible because I am His prize (James 1:18, NLT), His pride and joy (Hebrews 12:2).

God’s life has literally taken up residence inside you. Big God living in little you. You are His home address. And He is your riches, your fullness, your friend, sibling, and parent—relating to you in every way possible because you are His prize, His pride and joy.

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