Today's Thoughts on 'A Place of Quiet Rest'

I've been slowly making my way through A Place of Quiet Rest--a book I'm reading for the Next Generation Mentoring program. Some chapters leave me cold. Others feel like they've been written to me, for me.


Today Isabel and I missed the school bus by 30 seconds, so I drove her to school (in my pj's and slippers, of course). When I arrived home at 7:25 a.m., Lily was at the door to greet me. Big smile. "Pancakes?" she said. There went my quiet time with God.


Page 112: "Don't look at prayer and Bible study as something you try to make time for. Look at it as a need--a need that, if not met, could have serious consequences....Our time with the Lord is the most important part of our day. If we only get that done, we've done the most important activity."


This whole week has been this way--good intentions thwarted. The "serious consequences" of not having my quiet time are:


--That feeling of never getting everything done. It's unattainable. Each day ends with me not having gotten to something.
--Exhaustion.
--Resentment towards loved ones.
--Worries over money, springing up anew.
--My yearning for God evaporating.


Chapter 11 has been a treasure trove of little nuggets for me to take away. 


Page 234: "We don't pray, because we are not desperate. We're not really conscious of our need for God." I don't have a deep sense of my wants, or the mercies I'm in need of. This morning on NPR, I heard a brief interview with a "10-year-old girl with a brilliant smile" in Mogadishu, Somalia.

She was in the hospital after being injured in an explosion that killed two of her siblings. She had to have both legs amputated.

"I'm unlucky," she says. "When I grow up, I don’t know what I'll do, because I don't have any legs." Howa lost an older sister named Faduma in the attack. "Sometimes, when I sleep at night, I have dreams. I play with my sister," she says. "Then I wake up. This is my biggest problem."

When I heard this, I looked over at Lily, beaming at me, her sweet little face nearly bursting with that cute-pie spirit of hers. I thank God for her, for her safety and protection. 

Lord, I pray for her protection, and for Isabel's, in this world where anything can happen. I am like Isaiah, who sees You and cries, "Woe to me, with my unclean lips!" (Is 6:5). I live like You don't exist, and then I'm reminded that I need You.  I can do so little to protect them from the horrors that crop up in this world, but I beg you to watch over my children. They are so fragile, but You are on your throne. You see them. 

In Jesus' name I pray.