When I stop to think about it, it just blows my mind that God will meet me anywhere.
In the gray workroom with institutional lighting and shabby carpet? Yes, God says, I’ll be there.
Walking to work while it’s still dark, half-asleep and cranky? Good morning, daughter.
Kneeling on my bathmat or tucked into some other ridiculous nook of my tiny apartment? I’m here for you.
It shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. By now, I should be used to the fact that God loves living in our messy, shabby, dingy little world.
After all, was Jesus’ life glamorous? Didn’t he travel many dusty miles by foot, wash the feet of his companions? Didn’t he stoop to look into the faces of women, children, and men everyone else had been ignoring for years? Didn’t he take pleasure in the ordinary: the sweet taste of figs, the gift of sharing a meal with his friends?
Who am I, that God would delight in my tiny prayers and show up in my messy life?
The answer, too simple and too beautiful to fathom: You are my child, whom I love.
Today’s 15 minutes of prayer: In the training room at work. Humbled to meet with God in such a humble setting.