So my dorm organized this 24 hour prayer deal where we could commit to an hour of prayer during the day starting at midnight. The RAs did a great job of setting up a quiet space and providing inspirational materials. I took the 5-6 shift this morning.
I was excited about the prospect of doing nothing but spending time with my Savior for an hour but at the same time I was so concerned about what to do. Do I just say all my requests? Do I list every person I can think of? Do I hum, sing, read the Bible? Do I just clear my mind and listen for God's voice?
I half-heartedly tried all of the above. And it took 10 minutes. What was I supposed to do for the next 50 to keep myself from falling asleep?
So I closed my eyes and starting picturing my ideal house. Stupid, I know. Not praying, I know. But was it? Because all of a sudden I knew God was there. On my front porch. (It was a wrap-around, by the way, with a chair swing.) And here's how the time with my Lord turned out:
God: This is a very suitible house. It definitely fits you.
Me: Uh, thanks. What was I supposed to say? Oh, I know: Would you like to come in?
God: Of course.
Me: But wait. Why would you need an invitation to come in? Can't you do anything?
God: Yes, but I want you to be comfortable with this. I will always meet you where you are. I've stood on many front porches for whole lifetimes and never been inside.
Me: Ok well, there isn't anything particularly special here. It's just a house after all.
God: But it's your house. And you can tell a lot about somebody if you really look at what's inside. Like your living room, for example. Ok, now we were obviously standing in the living room; the first room anyone sees when they enter my house. It's very clean, very comfortable. A nice couch. A piano marked with time.
Me: That's my great-grandmother's.
God: I know. It's beautiful. Especially when played from the heart. And the guitar. Look at these pictures! Family, friends, places you've been. My creation - how good it is. What a beautiful room to bring people in. Even the wall color - so light and carefree.
Me: I want people to feel comfortable with me.
God: But where am I in this?
Me: Your creation -
God: But where am I? Can somebody walk into your life and immediately see me?
Me: I always hoped people could see you through my actions.
God: Are you scared of offending people? Would people leave if they immediately knew I was a priority in your life?
Me: What do I say to that?
God: Just think about it.
Me: Yah, ok, I will defintely do that. What about another room? I think we've hashed out this room enough -
God: Hold on. Are you sure?
Me: You've seen it all. I have some redecorating to do, obviously, so we'll come back to it.
God: Ok. Is it just me or does he seem hesitant? The family room, huh? Disorganized chaos?
Me: Just noticing the piles of stuff everywhere Actually, I don't know if I'm ready to introduce you to this room. Can we go back to the living room?
God: Of course. I noticed that while it's beautiful and representative of you, you have some dust in the corners. And some cobwebs up there near the ceiling. People don't usually notice these, right? I bet - oh yep - there's junk under the couch too - oh - and in between the cushions even. Stuff you know is there but no one can see unless you point it out. Why would you want to try and live like this? With all these "secret" messes? Let me clean it out.
And He did. He took all the dust and cobwebs and empty wrappers and cleaned them out. You would never know anything in the room changed unless it was pointed out. I'm still the same basic person - maybe a little convicted - but nothing on the outside has really changed.
God: Are you ready to go back to the family room?
Me: Sure. Oh hey -
God: Yes?
Me: Thanks. He didn't have to say anything but His smile was reassuring.
God: I like this room, too. Families are wonderful. This old couch looks well-loved.
Me: Yah and there's the indent where my dad sits by and let's things happen.
God: What are you talking about?
Me: He's so non-chalant about everything. He just watches everything happen but doesn't get up and try to help. And he certainly isn't trying to help clean up.
God: Oh how wrong you are.
Me: Then what's his deal?
God: I gave him that spot. It's the best spot in the room. He can see everything from there. And he can enjoy his beautiful family, no matter what they're doing. I haven't asked him to do anything but be there for you. He appreciates the mess for what it is - the sign of his active healthy family.
Me: He is a pretty good guy, I guess.
God: He is. But what about this mess?
Me: We each have a pile and we just add to it. Sometimes problems arise when the piles mix and our stuff gets mixed up.
God: Who organized this mess?
Me: Wait? "Organized"? That would be my mom, I guess.
God: A beautiful lady. Have you ever looked at her pile?
Me: No, she hides most of it.
God: Does it ever mix with yours?
Me: Well, yes. And then shit hits the fan. Oh my gosh, can you curse with God?
God: Yes. It's better than not talking to me at all. Back to your mom: have you ever asked to see her pile?
Me: Not really.
God: You should. It might be good for both of you. And your sisters' piles?
Me: Oh, they're always changing and mixing and taking stuff from each other.
God: They're figuring themselves out.
Me: This room is such a mess.
God: I love this mess. Don't try to change it. What's left?
Me: My bedroom, but I don't like bringing people in here.
God: Because it's your most intimate space? That's ok we'll just stand at the door. It's kind of sparse.
Me: I don't spend a lot of time here either.
God: It's ok to spend time on yourself. It's scary. But here: what if I were to join you here? In your space?
Me: Why would you want to do that? It's nothing special to look at.
God: I think it is. But what is that smell?
Me: Oh, that? It's stuff in the basement/attic.
God: What's with the slash?
Me: I've buried a lot of garbage down there but sometimes it hangs over my head, instead of staying buried.
God: Let's go look.
Me: No! I mean, you don't really want to go down there. I don't even really want to go down there. I mean, you've seen my house. You even helped clean it up. Can't we just stop for now? I mean, we can come back to it later right?
God: Can you do something? Can you give up your desire for control? Just give it to me. I know what I'm doing. Just trust me. I want to spend time with you, in your intimate space, that doesn't always smell like rotten stuff. Let me take care of it.
Me: Ok. Can I wait on the porch? I don't really want to see that stuff again.
God: That's fine. Just give me some time.
And He went down there and hauled all that stuff out. Without my help. And when I went back in to my room, the smell was gone.
Me: Holy crap.
God: No. Holy beauty. Your house won't stay clean forever. Dust builds back up and stuff will reappear in your basement. But I'll be here. And we can walk through it together and I promise that I will always clean it out.
And then I opened my Bible and saw Psalm 84: "How lovely is your dwelling place. O Lord Almighty!"
