I grew up in a household of six children. Five boys and myself. I’m not really sure if girls would have changed that dynamic at all, I just know we did wild really well. I either played the roll of bossy sister [aka wannabe-mommy] or attempted to be one of the guys. Needless to say, we were busy kids. From what I can remember we were good at creating adventure from thin air; there was always a game to be played or created. We were busy bodies, and when there are six of you, time is of the essence. I am quite sure we filled our time full to the brim. Until nap time, and this, I remember quite vividly. Mom never forced us to sleep, but we were required to be quiet and relatively still. We could lay in bed and read books or stare at the ceiling, but quiet, still, rest time was of utter importance. We hear parents say it all the time, “if he doesn’t get a nap it’s going to be a long day”, or things of that matter. The time of being still was so important to our tiny selves. And it is still important to our less tiny selves. I am learning how important it is particularly to my heart in correlation with the Father.
I, to this very moment, still tend to be a busybody. However, as I’ve grown up, quiet time has become more and more important. It is my time to be lifeless and unwind. These times come in my quiet, slow mornings. They came from fall days with a book in front of the fireplace, journaling, etc.. I am good at quiet time in myself, but I really neglected quiet time with Jesus. The first person to challenge me to solitude was my favorite pastor dude, Jason. He taught me how my busyness in my time with Jesus could occasionally block His voice. Made sense; playing music and constantly talking to someone makes it a bit rough for the, to speak, much less be heard. The first time I sat and invited Jesus to join me, where I turned off the background music and quieted my brain, I began to weep. Uncontrollably. I was sitting in the back room of where I was working filing papers. It was brutal. In my quietness, God was gently revealing parts of my heart that were damaged and hurting that my busyness had been covering. I realized in that moment how important it is to silence myself and give God the open ground. After all He is the wise one in the scenario.
Similarly, in Colombia round two, God has been gifting me with more time to wrap myself thoroughly in His presence. At first I felt a bit lazy for worshipping for so long and so often. Then I was graciously reminded that time spent with the Savior is never, ever a waste.
This morning, my roommate joined me for my five a.m. still time. At six thirty when we were both wrapping up, I asked her how it went. She told me how it was a beautiful time to be up, but she did fall back asleep. We laughed and talked about how sleeping can surely be still time and God most definitely speaks through dreams. We went on about the thought that God is so steady. Falling asleep and waking up and He’s still there. She, Naemi, compared it to a husband- how even laying near him is time with him, and while you might fall asleep, when dawn comes, he is still faithfully there. We are quite aware that God actually ends up being the perfect guide, mold, example of how our one-day husbands should be, and it is thrilling to uncover His husbandly qualities.
So still time. It’s quite important, I would say it has grown me the very most. Disclaimer, everyone’s still time looks different. Mine tends to look like a body sprawled on the floor, wrapped in a worship blanket, crisscross-applesauce, or on my knees. However you do still, just invite Jesus into the room.
And as a worshipper, I have some post-quiet still time music for you if you’d like:
Enjoy my brain thoughts post coffee and sunny side up eggs.