On my last night in my condo, I got on the floor like I’ve done so many times before in this little “prayer cottage.”
My home – as normal as any other suburban condo – had become my prayer closet. Every inch of it. Over these past 11 years, I can honestly say there was barely a place on the floor where I had not knelt in prayer – crying out for breakthroughs, seeking direction, or just enjoying friendship with Jesus.
We became the very best of friends in this home.
And now on the eve of my departure, I discovered what I was most afraid of losing.
In part, it was of course the comforts of my home. I had taken care like most of us do, to make it “homey” – carefully selecting the furnishings and décor, gathering friends and family, making memories in this place.
It was my sacred space.
But mostly, I was grieving the loss of my special place of communion with Jesus.
As I knelt on the floor this one last time, I wept. And I asked the Lord a profoundly simple question (if not a silly one to pose to the God of the whole universe):
Where will we meet? Where will I spend time with you?
Of course I know that God is everywhere.
Yes, we can meet with him anywhere, anytime. But this home had become to me our special meeting place.
After a long day at work, I’d feel his tangible presence like a warm greeting the moment I walked through the front door.
I fell in love with Jesus here, in this home.
I learned to know his voice here, in this home.
I found my own voice here, in this home.
It was here that I learned to “go away by myself, shut the door, and pray to my Father in secret.” (Matt 6:6)
It was my sacred space.
Sacred spaces. They beckon us.
In my innocent, tearful “where will I meet you?” questioning, I found out that I had changed. I was no longer concerned with the things in my home, or even the thing of my home.
I wondered mostly about my place of connection.
I pondered a place of meeting. I lamented over memories of sweet encounters with Jesus – in this sacred space that he had given me.
And as I’d experienced time and time again in this home, sitting here in his presence, came the gift of his voice.
It is always a gift.
No matter how often I hear it, the creative power that is his voice always feels new. Like falling in love all over again.
Connie, it’s not where you meet with me, it’s that you meet with me.
I love how Jesus cuts to the chase. He keeps it simple. In the torrents of life, these simple truths can somehow feel muddied and complex.
It is not where you meet with me; it is that you meet with me.
Well that got my attention. So I leaned in for more…
It’s not where you meet with me. It’s that you meet with me. The altar is not in this house; it’s in your heart.
You’ve made room in this place yes, but mostly you’ve made room in your heart. This house represents the very precious sacred space you’ve made for me. Your body, my temple.
And it is personal. And it is intimate. But it is within you.
We have these treasures in earthen vessels, in jars of clay. (2 Cor. 4:7)
Sacred spaces within us.
We are invited to make room for him – in the interior spaces of our hearts. To notice the unseen reality of his presence in what we can see, all around us.
The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by human hands. (Acts 17:24)
Sacred spaces within us.
God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us. For in him we live and move and have our being. (Acts 17:27-28)
The whole of creation beckons us toward this sacred space – of knowing and being known by our Creator. All that we're able to see with our natural eyes is intended for this primary purpose – to open the eyes of our hearts that we may see into the unseen. That we may perceive and know this Creator of all things, who is not far from us.
For in him we live and move and have our being.
Sacred Spaces (a little poem I wrote...I hope it blesses you!)
And I find you here, in this sacred place.
As I walk through this forest of light.
It is a wilderness but you are there,
And it is beautiful.
I search for you. I look for you. I try to find your face.
But you are all around me.
I hear you say –
“Breathe in. I am the air that you breathe.”
Do you hear the sound that the ground makes when you step on the crumpled leaves?
I am in the sound of your steps.
I am the light shone in these trees.
I am the breath that you breathe.
I am in you and all around you.
You have found me here.
I’ve been here.
I am here.
Jesus, in between the trees.
Jesus, walking beside me.
Jesus, in the air that I breathe.
Jesus, in this rough terrain.
Jesus, in this passage way.
Jesus, in the grip of my hand.
Jesus, all around me.
Jesus, teaching me to just – be.
Not what I say but what I see.
There is beauty all around me.
He is beautiful.
And now, I see.
My feet are firmly planted in this your identity bestowed upon me.
My heart established and rooted in all that you say is true of me.
These roots that run down deep.
Like a tree planted by streams of water.
Jesus, on a tree.
Bleeding. Dying. For you and me.
So I could find this sacred space. This eternal breath that he gave away.
Jesus, in the breath I breathe.
Jesus’ breath now breathed in me.
So I might breathe eternally.
Created to be in this sacred space. The one he made on Calvary. The one that’s found in all humanity. There is this sacred space in me. It’s been there from eternity. Waiting on me…waiting on me…waiting on me to just be
Did you know that Unveiled has programs to help you cultivate your own sacred space, making room for God's presence, voice and calling in your life?