Well it’s 5:45 am and my heart has found it’s way toward a place that it recognizes as sacred. I bend my knees and kneel down next to this chair that becomes holy ground about this time every morning. It’s where Momma Grose and the Lord meet. Same time, same place, for years worth of mornings. I think at this point more than 25 years worth of mornings. That’s 9,125 mornings give or take a few. 9,125 moments of bringing yourself before the Lord before the start of the day and submitting to His Lordship over it.
I remember early on in my walk with the Lord asking, “you mean you come and spend time here EVERY single morning?” Her response, “yeah I have learned that this is where my peace is going to come from and if i want to live in peace it starts here.” Well alrighty then. Every morning it is.
Now one would think after witnessing the way that she lives her life and realizing that she largely attributes that to what happens in that space every single morning that I would have adopted that regimen. I mean if God transforms you there in that space and you find peace – it seems a natural response right, that I would create that space and be diligent. Nope. I so wish that I could say that was true. I did not run home, create a “prayer chair” space and retreat to it every single morning, or every single night, and if I’m super honest there are days I never pick up my Bible – ok maybe stretches of days sometimes.
I don’t pretend to know what occurs in that prayer chair beyond what my eyes have been so incredibly blessed to witness – but every once in a while my heart has been invited into this space. This morning is one of those times. Well I sorta invited myself, and I don’t do that often – because this isn’t shared space. It’s Momma Grose and Jesus space, but on rare occasions when it matters – we share Jesus time here.
So we kneel down this morning because this weekend she will be traveling to Dallas to get to do what she was created by the Lord to do. She will stand before a group of women and she will hold that worn pink Bible in her hand. It will peel open and unfold over her hands in familiar ways because let’s face it – that Bible she proclaims in public has seen years worth of days unfolded in private. She will stand and talk about a Savior who meets her EVERY single morning in a green striped oversize chair in the corner of her den and she’ll speak about Him like she knows Him. Because a years worth of mornings of allowing Him to speak over you can do that to a heart.
There’s something about this space. It’s worn and familiar. It’s miles upon miles of life piled up and laid at the feet of Jesus. And in the “shared” spaces – It’s the place where we prayed when I was wrestling to figure out whether I was gonna sell out to this God thing. We’ve lifted up sick loved ones here and broken hearts. We prayed in this space before I left my life here to move to Honduras. We’ve prayed here when I’ve lost my way. We’ve prayed here when those we love have lost theirs. We’ve prayed for reconciled relationships with people dear to us. Messy, authentic, beautiful shared space. Doing life together and attempting to do that all centered around a cross space.
And so today, I think I stand reminded of a few things from a bent knee view near the prayer chair.
A Bible that’s tattered usually belongs to a life that isn’t.
Seeking His face, really does mean “seeking” with diligence and consistency.
An authentic message comes from a place that knows how your Bible unfolds over your hands, your heart, and your life in private before it ever attempts to speak from it in public.
I am honored to my toenails to share this relationship with her.
My life will be marked forever because of the lessons I learn in this space.
Some gifts should never be taken for granted.
And last but not least…maybe today isn’t too late to decide that peace comes from an EVERY single morning dose of Jesus.