A scrap of paper was all I could find that morning, but I knew I had to record what I felt. There was a significant pause that I felt as I entered the room. This room was no ordinary room. It was the space that my brother-in-law used as his meeting place with Christ–every morning. There was a pause indicative of time with God here. Tangible. The hush stalled me in the doorway and I slipped off my shoes.
My senses came fully aware of everything in an instant. The feel of the nubby texture of the carpeting underneath my feet; the ticking of time; and my breathing.
The clock reminded me of the time that is passing. Hours, minutes and seconds swiftly escaping-never to return.
There was a holy hush in the room. The ssshhh sound of aerated water coming from the filtered faucet. Water from a backyard hose makes an altogether different sound.
I eased into one of the wing-back chairs and remembered what my sister, Aimee said about this style of chair–with its tall sides, “feels like I can lean over and rest my head on the shoulder of God.” Yes, that’s it exactly in this reverent room.
Windows directly across afforded an expanse of creation that was breathtaking. Growing things and flitting wings; both birds and butterflies.
Deep breath as the Presence of Holy invades–as a permanent Resident. He knows this place. He knows His place. In me–all of me. I ask for more. Tears sting as a song of praise fills my mind. He’s so good.
Outside this world, this intentionally sacred place, there exists a cacophony of actions, things that would pull the mind and body into a distorted knot–the minute the feet left the threshold. But inside, the ointment, the oil of healing–mind, body, and soul, was applied. But it’s all a choice. Yours and mine.
Before I asked her, I knew holy discussions ensued in this room. His prayer room. My brother-in-law, the minister. The one younger than my Jeff, yet he was the one who offered us John 9:1-3, when we were waiting on our first born. He was the one we went to at every stage of change–good or bad, through-out our married life. His relationship with his Father was felt in the room. I could still sense it. The residual effect of times spent in the Presence of The Holy One stung my eyes as they filled and spilled down my face. Like the fragrance of incense. It remained.
The sound of snapping lids closing containers tight brought my mind out of its place of prayer. Life. Constantly reminding us we are here for a season and purpose.
There are many times I feel that sacredness in my own house–but it must be an intentional action. The feeling is not often enough. I’ve not been as intentional as life cries out for it to be.
Toma told me that morning that she and Whit had always shared the front room for devotion. As I walked into that room I felt the same Presence of God hovering–as if beckoning me to pause. To be intentional. To rest there… I can’t linger. My heart wants to–but my mind pulls me to hurry through the day.
I imagine that the same thing happens to you.
Friend, there is something –or rather Someone found in the sacred moments of a pause. To be intentional about creating a sacred place in our homes and hearts. I have to work at it. It won’t happen accidently. Even placing things in the room in such a way that brings harmony. Sacred moments don’t happen without us being intentional about seeking Him.
That morning my scribbling words on a scrap of paper marked me. I came home and wrote it in my prayer journal. I needed to pull those moments back in close. To remind myself to become more intentional about everything.
“Life. Living intentionally for eternity”, became the focus. A new season for us. We stepped out in faith to the unknown. Really. Even today I know without God, none of this is possible….but hand Him an impossible situation–and He is ABLE.
Living an intentionally life of sacred holiness will not happen by accident. Purpose and passion is demanded. Giving up our rights to ourselves. When God speaks, nudges, or whispers to us–something is required. Sometimes “action”–but other times, “stillness”. Too often we mistake the action for stillness-the pause.
Father, help me recognize Your Voice. Help me to become more aware of You than ever before–I long to live intentionally sacred before You. I give You all of me–holding nothing back. All glory and honor goes to You! In Jesus holy name, Amen.