6:30 a.m. The song begins to play, telling me it is time to wake up.
Shower. Get Ready. Quickly eat breakfast. Out the door.
Work. Work. Work. Home. Errands. Friends.
Do you ever feel like you are on the wash cycle on repeat? It’s so rhythmic. It’s so consistent. It’s alarming.
The routine wrestles with my time with the Lord. I convince myself in the middle of my morning that I can find it, but oftentimes the bed calls my name more than my drive to have time with Jesus.
In those moments, sleep matters more to me than the living water.
The more I allow this cycle to repeat, the more desperate and thirsty for the Lord I become. I forget that the stillness is where I find Him. In the moment of pause.
If we allow the rhythm, the routine, to dictate our lives—working, living, moving at a syncopated pace—when do we stop? When is the pause?
Every song ever written has a moment of rest. How naive for me to think my life-song should never pause.
It’s in the silence that I hear God.