The Holy Rhythm will Remind You

I grab my bible and sit, hoping for a few moments to soak in Psalm 87 before starting the laundry. I can hear the boys up front, in the living room,  building a fort with the giant waffle blocks Isaiah got for Christmas. Happy chatter quickly turns to arguing and I reach for my noise cancelling earphones as their father intervenes. I slip the sleek black gift onto my Medusa morning hair and turn my attention back to the words but stop, remembering I haven't prayed yet. I lean into the silence and ask the Father for forgiveness, I ask him to open his words to my heart. I take a deep breath and clear my head.


The toddler screams into a fit that even my earphones cannot drown out.

But all I can really hear is the beat of my heart. It's coming through as I breathe, loud, deep, strong, even, and true. I listen for its movement. What a gift this heart is with its ever-steady work. The blood rushing in, valves slamming shut, pressure building, then blood hurtling forth to keep this human body alive. I'm forty today and a little unsure of it. But this sound that keeps me alive reminds me what God has given me. I know someday the beat will cease. Maybe I'll see it coming, maybe I won't. Either way, there's no longer any fear in knowing that my heartbeat has an expiration date.

As I listen to my rhythm I think of the heart within Jesus. How much love did it hold to choose death over life? Could he hear his rhythm over the crowds as they chanted, "Crucify him, crucify him!"? Did he slow the rate when the end was close, or did he just stop it? Because unlike me, Jesus was in charge of his heartbeat's end.

"No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord." (John 10:18)

He knew precisely when to command his heart to stop beating and let go of his spirit. And he did not falter or second guess his heart work. He just let his earthly body go.


Are we brave enough to do the same? Can we ignore the crowds around us and focus on the rhythm God has given us until we can let our earthly grip go? Do we have the strength of spirit to walk with time as we age and not stop carrying the heartbeat of our work with us?

Dear friends, may we be reminded each day our heart continues its rhythm that we have a God-given purpose. Our work awaits us each morning fresh and new with no idea how old we are or how many gray hairs have appeared. As long as our beat continues, then so does God's calling on our lives. Lean into the silence and find that holy rhythm God has given you and bring him all the Glory he deserves.

The Closet

I knew it was coming.  I could feel it.  For weeks I had pushed it down.  In public when I saw people with babies I would just smile and comment politely but inside I could sense it.  And I just kept shoving it back.  I had no idea it would hit me in the closet.  I was busy sorting Luke’s outgrown clothing for a friend with a new baby.  Steve and I had decided that it didn’t make much sense to keep a closet full of clothes for a baby who might not arrive for another year or two when our friend could use them now.  Besides, our Isaiah wouldn’t be a little baby when he got home anyway, right?  Logically, it made perfect sense.  So, I’m not sure if it was the tininess of the baby onesie or the fact that it had I love mommy stitched on it or the random thought I had when I saw that it came from Gap and I hoped that some kid hadn’t stitched it on there instead of going to school that day, but all I can tell you was that the waterfall started.  Tears flowed like rain down my face and onto the baby clothes I was sorting and I couldn’t stop them. Before I knew it they turned into sobs and I buried my faced into that onesie and all I could think was Oh God.   I was glad I had closed the closet door and the girls had their TV turned up too loud.  I was relieved no one in my house could hear me.  I really had no words other than Oh God to pray.  I wish that I could tell you that I did.  I wish that I could post one of my written prayers from my journal that could help you but I don’t have one.  All I can tell you was that right there in my kids’ closet I was heartbroken and there aren't words for my prayer for that.  I can tell you I was mourning that Isaiah won’t be little when he comes home and I was mourning our wait.  I was mourning a world that makes children wait for homes while expediting abortions.   And sometimes there aren't words for that either; at least not human words.  As I sat there rocking back and forth I knew I wasn’t alone, however sad, however tired, the Holy Spirit was with me. Of all the things I know about God to be true at that moment I remembered that.  Paul tells us the following in 

Romans 8:26-27, “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness.  We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.  And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God’s will.”

I finished sorting those clothes through tears that day and found that I was stronger than when I started.  Every day I get stronger, and every day I get closer to his promise of my son.  And every day I remind myself that I am filled with a built in prayer partner.  I don’t have to have all the words I just need to ask for help.   I don’t know where you are right now.  Maybe you are waiting too on something God has promised, or maybe you have news that you can’t handle alone.  But wherever your closet is right now God is there too.  You don’t have to have the right words; you don’t have to have any words at all.  Be secure in the knowledge that the Holy Spirit is speaking for you when you are unable to do so.  Rest in that promise and come out of your closet with some peace.  I did.