When God Leaves The Building
I’ve started a new habit:
“God, be here.”
That’s it.
When I feel like the moment- whatever it may be- is becoming too big for me... I ask him to step in.
I’ve used it in the simplest moments- “God, be here.”- when I’m at coffee with a friend and want to stay present.
I’ve used it in my workouts- “God, be here.”- when I don’t know if I can do one more rep or one more round.
And I’ve used it in bigger moments- “God, be here.”- when I’m sitting in the chemo therapy room with my Mom and the anxiety of seeing her all hooked up sets in.
It’s my way of surrender. It’s my way of not trying to do it all on my own. My way of letting someone help me... and be there for me. And it’s become something I have to request every day. Not because he’s not here... cause he always is… but because I’ll never wake up a day in my life again and try to do it all by myself (trust me, I’ve tried it before... & it sucks the life right outta ya).
So I ask him politely, to be here.
And, without fail, he shows up.
But I’ve also begun to notice something else... I’ve noticed that sometimes- despite his consistency- sometimes, he doesn’t. Sometimes he doesn’t show up.
And what’s weird about it, is that I’ve begun to realize that that too... is without fail.
I remember the moment it hit me. I asked him to show up and nothing changed. I continued to feel disconnected from the moment... I felt heavy, stuck, stagnant. Nothing about it lit me up or made me feel alive or safe or loved or free.
And I literally thought... “Holy shit, God left the building.”
It was in that moment that I realized that it was on purpose. That he had intentionally... got up and left… and wasn’t coming back. That he didn’t just decide to not be there for me that day... he had chose not to show up because he was done there-- and he needed me to follow him somewhere else.
Sometimes, a lot of the time, we hold on to what we think should be. To what we want. And we don’t stop often enough to simply look around and ask.... “God, are you still here?”
Talking to God and hearing crickets... realizing he had completely left the building... realizing that I was totally just talking to myself... was an eye opening experience. But at the same time, learning to be aware of the ways in which he talks to me... has also been a life-changing one.
I don’t know if God is standing in the room you’re in now.
Or the one you get up and drive to every day.
But I do know that if he’s not... he’s simply just waiting for you to muster up the courage to get up, walk out... and go find him.