Come Away
Many of us have a super cringy history with the idea of “quiet times.” We often miss the mark by focusing on the mechanics of how it looks and how it shouldn’t look. Is it a discipline? Like pulling a string of floss out of a small blue Oral-B box because daily flossing is so dang good for you? Is it a habit? Like the Navy Seal Admiral’s suggestion on how making your bed every day is the secret sauce to changing the world?
This year I invited my daughters to join me on a daily plan to read through the Bible in a year. We found His presence in Scripture. We texted each other and encouraged one another on days where our reading was less a feast and more a dry crust of bread. We shared podcasts and insights. We lost our way during vacations, and tried desperately to catch up, cheering one another on along the way.
We gave Him our attention and it was less about the program or system we used and more about the surrender of our hearts: Search me. Lead me.
I’ve come to see my daily rhythm with God’s word and His very presence as an Invitation. The Invitation of the day is to come away. To tuck in and rest in his presence and allow for time to respond. An invitation. Arriving every day, relentlessly, like the arrival of a Hogwarts Acceptance Letter for the boy living in the cupboard under the stairs at 4 Privet Drive.
The invitation is to give Him our attention. The invitation is to say to the Lord: In you I live. In you I rest. In you I delight. The invitation is to press our ear to his chest and hear from His heart.
I have learned what it means to live in the daily work of scripture, longing to inherit all the living God has for me. Postured to receive its poking and prodding and challenging work. It’s confirmation. The undressing of my unique blindspots and of returning daily to straighten the distortions of my heart. Building. Discovering. Applying. Expecting. Engaging.
I’ve learned to ask questions. What is the broad context of each book? What is the passage about in general? Who was the original audience? What did it mean at the time? Do other passages give context? What idea is being developed? What does the text teach me about God? What baggage do I bring to the text? I’ve learned to explore by asking questions and most importantly, allowing the text to ask questions of me.
I’m in desperate need of a new SUPER GIANT PRINT REFERENCE BIBLE, but my 40 year-old Thompson Chain reminds me of the manifold goodness of God. Recalling who I am and whose I am. It’s still surprising and revelatory. My handwritten margin notes reveal my journey from a young 17 year-old wide eyed Rhoda to 57 year-old bifocaled Rhoda who can say with conviction: My shoes have not worn out. My clothing has not worn out. Manna has been on the ground.
I’m still learning. Learning the beauty of reading the whole Bible and how every passage works together with the whole.
His Word challenges me and calls me to go deeper. Sometimes I hear the sound of rushing waters. Often it’s a quiet whisper of a Father. A call and response. Beholding. Soaking. Setting my hope daily and setting it again the next day. Settling hard on a verse and allowing a verse to settle itself hard on me.
He is calling you, beloved, to come away. Each day a new invitation. At first, you might find yourself a distracted mess, even when you leave your phone in another room. Your mind will prove itself wild with random thoughts like, “I wonder if Costco still has those collapsible laundry baskets…they would work great for grocery shopping” or “next time I make meatloaf, I need to remember to not form the edges too small…they were a little too dry.”
Keep showing up. You’ll find the One who longs to be gracious and compassionate is not impatient with your distraction. He is hospitable. Abounding in love for you. Not bound by mechanics. More than a discipline or a habit, the Living God longs to meet with you. If you’re looking for a word in 2024, I have two: “come away.”