Hello friends,

How’s life treating you? 

I hope that you are hanging on to hope no matter what’s going on.

But do you ever wonder how Jesus would ask that same question if you casually bumped into him standing in line to pick up his favorite drink at Starbucks?

Using my healed imagination, He would probably drop the line from Matthew 11 1almost every time: Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion, Georgina?

The grace in His questions would bring tears to my eyes. Then He’d probably look at me with empathy, place his hand on my shoulder, smile, and say, “Would you let me help you carry your burdens? Would you let me teach you how not to get ahead of yourself? Are you willing to let me show you how to succeed at being human?”

And, of course, I would say: Yes, Jesus, I do! Then, He’d smile and say, “ok, then the first thing you will need to do is rest.

The simple truth Jesus conveys in Matthew 11 is a foreign concept for those of us trained to prove ourselves and earn every bit of space we occupy by our productivity. If that is the only truth we’ve ever believed, this new way of Jesus is hard to accept.

Rest is a discipline that was foreign to me, but over time and with the help and wisdom of others, I am in the process of learning to rest. My writing angle is not one of an expert, but I am also not an amateur. I am somewhere in the middle.

People say that life comes at us fast, and it does. As I grow older, I feel that reality more than ever. We get caught up in the whirlwind of every task, relationship, and project, and all this stimulus drains us.

Rest is a spiritual discipline, a practice, and a lifestyle.

I attended my third Soul Shepherding Institute retreat in Bells, Texas. If you’re new around here, I go there as part of my spiritual direction training. A spiritual director is like a guide and an ambassador of Jesus who helps foster a space for our soul to express its woes and joys.

Today, I want to share with you what I call the ritual of space. The phrase came to me in a session as I described my spiritual disciplines to a directee.

By definition, ritual means “a set of actions performed in a regular way.”

Perhaps you might think you don’t have any rituals, but if you pay attention, you will find that you do.

The following is a description of mine, not a prescription for your life. It is up to you to find what works and what fills your soul with God’s peace.

My favorite ritual, the one that makes my life lovely, is what I do every morning, no matter where I am in the world. It looks like this: I wake up, stretch, get out of bed, use the restroom, brush my teeth, and drink water (because I don’t know about you, but I wake up thirsty!). I pour a cup of coffee, light a candle, open the shades, sit on the sofa, read a devotional, and meditate in silence before sunrise.

This ritual of fostering space for my soul saves my life daily.

In every way, we humans look for evidence of stability and something we can count on each day. This regular practice does it for me, no matter where I am. I regularly make space to enjoy Jesus through a bible verse, the birds chirping at dawn, and how my body breathes slow and deep in perfect peace.

Back at the Ranch, I hear a horse neigh as the sun rises. The Texas fog has not yet lifted, and I feel like my cabin is sacred. Jesus’ invitation to come and get away is not a far-off concept but a reality I revel in for five days. I have four hours of lessons and practices before my TLC time. (To Love Christ). “I relinquish my agenda for this day, oh God,” is the prayer within my heart.

I have learned to hold the five hours of my TLC time structure loosely because sometimes, memorizing Psalm 119 is not what my soul needs but a nap. Yes, I said it: a nap! Because, gosh, people, I don’t know about you, but sometimes, taking a nap resolves 80% of my problems just by resetting my brain.  I laid my blanket by the edge of the pond outside the chapel. I needed to experience God outside without confinement. I am the one who needs space. He does not.

So, I chose to look on up into the sky and let the wind soothe my worries. Clouds roll by, my perspective begins to clear, and heavy things become lighter. My problems are there, but God’s presence has shrunk them to their proper size. I am not even worried about bugs crawling on me. Nothing matters, just the beat of my heart in His. A tear dripped over my cheek, and then another. I am not sad, but I feel real. What do we do now, I ask? He says, “Shh, let's just lie here and enjoy each other’s company.” More tears.

I let myself float into the generosity of His grace flooding the moment. God hosts a space for me to exhale all my woes and receive what only He can give–restoration.

Suddenly, I realize that the Kingdom of God is the treasure hidden underneath the rubble of all my worldly distractions. I linger in this space where nothing else matters, but Jesus and I entwined. I want to stay here forever, but moments like these are just a preview of coming attractions.

I came home a few days ago, and my challenge will be to establish a ritual of space to hold more of God’s presence in the midst of my hectic life.

Faith tells me Jesus will help me figure it out, and the answer will come. And I will remember to lean into silence because that is where God is the loudest.

I hope you stay and read along. I pray these words will help you find your very special practice of loving Christ.

As always, thank you for being here.

I will leave you with a prayer.

May we trust in the practice of rest.

May we be intentional with time and space.

May we look for glimpses of God’s grace.

May we linger in His embrace.

May we welcome the silence today.

In the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,

Amen.

Until next time,

Love God, love you, love others.

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