The way to abide, part 4

5:30 a.m. I stand in the quiet street under bright stars, thinking how

long it has been since I took the time to come outside when the stars are out. It is that in-between time when the world holds its breath, full of the mystery of being. The new day seems perfect still, full of promise. I want to just lie down right in the middle of the street and watch those stars till the sun comes up. I want to stay out here and tell the women waiting for me that I don't really feel up to praying today, that I have lugged my weary woes along and I can feel them bubbling up inside like soda when you shake it--ready to explode.

That's what happens when you isolate yourself, push it all down deep and paste the smile on. You don't have to be physically alone to be lonely. All those fears and resentments just waiting till you get shaken. 

I head inside like a good girl where I am welcomed by the smell of hot coffee and the glow from the fireplace. Conversation is hushed as we gather. I sit quietly, trying to quiet my heart. 

The room stills, and one by one women begin to offer up their quiet prayers. Their prayers are for our children, our husbands, our leaders, the suffering and mourning and broken among us. They cry out for people who will never know we gathered here this morning. And the tears choke my heart as God cracks it open ever so gently and releases my self-pity, bit by bit. 

Suddenly I can hardly breathe for the presence of the Spirit. I want to get up and run, for I'm on holy ground and how could I forget this? This place that is so right, so dangerous, and yet so secure. 

I cannot speak. My lips are unclean, and my heart and my head and my feet and all of me, and I want to hide and yet stay forever here, in this place where God is.

I have forgotten what it is to pray like this. These women, letting go of self, standing on the front lines at 5:30 a.m. while their families sleep. This is what He meant by abiding, us together, letting His words and His love fill us. He said, "If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you, you will ask what you desire, and it will be done for you" (John 15:7). 

His words could not abide in me when I was so full of myself. But these friends, this community of sisters, bring me back to Him. And they speak His own words, claiming His promises. This is why He wants us to know His words. They are life, they are power, they are The Way Back. 

When His words abide in us, His desires become our desires, and we pray His own heart right back to Him. But He asks us to approach Him together. "Where two or three are gathered together in My name, I am there in the midst of them" (Matthew 18:20).

We need each other. We were not meant to do this alone. 

He made sure His disciples had each other. He made them a family. Yes, solitude with God is important too, as Jesus often showed us. But when we stay in isolation, we miss the joy of community. We are each uniquely made in His image, and we reflect Him in different ways. And together we are glorious. We bear each other up. We remember. We become part of something so much bigger than ourselves, a language and a song stretching throughout time and rising upward to Him in endless beauty.

6:30 a.m. I walk out into a world awakening. The sun has not quite peeked over the eastern mountain, but the sky blushes with this glorious joyful splendor. The western mountains stand as black silhouettes, and I can almost hear them singing. 

Day 24 of Abiding: 31 Days of Resting in Him

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