Texas whispered, come early, so I flew to San Antonio a day ahead of the retreat to spend some time with a friend. She’s known me since junior high, we ran track together in high school, we partied together in college. I knew her family and she knew mine and we knew the dirt roads we grew up with like we knew each other’s hearts. So we sit across the table over white chocolate tamales and God parts the curtains of heaven, shines down kairosright there in that tex-mex restaurant and I catch my breath as holy sifts through the cracks of time.
How good to sit with someone who has known you over the years.
And my heart is full with this knowledge when I enter the canyon—I am known. I am seen. So imagine how the wind is knocked out of me when strangers name me Beloved with their eyes. Right there, in the Great Hall, beside the Frio, all weekend long I am wrecked at the ways God connects our beating hearts.
I found new music and new friends and insomnia and a hearth I carry with me. It frightened me, this feeling—so visceral—so exhausting—this need to be together. When my roommate left a day early, I lay on the bed in our room, aching physically from being alone. I felt that big Texas sky stretch out above me and when the raindrops fell it was God strumming his fingers over the strings of the canyon.
That last morning I walked through the rain in the dark—down to the boat dock. This, where I would have my morning prayer in retreats past when the canyon weather was more hospitable. I stood on the deck and let the rain kiss my face, let the wind cut through the layers of me. When the cold became too unbearable I found shelter in the library. I pulled an old Bible off the shelf and read my favorite scripture, reminding me of the sovereignty of God, that He is first. I questioned and he spoke from the storm inside of me.
We were made to love each other. This frail flesh on me cannot handle this sometimes. But it is a glimpse of the Kingdom when the moments collide this way, when souls connect in an instant. And I ask God to wash these feelings, to release all impurities—the ways we compare, and the insecurities, and how we strive and twist each moment. I ask Him to let only love remain.
And God parts the curtains of heaven, shines down kairos right there in that library and I catch my breath as holy sifts through the cracks of time.
This is community. This is love. This is the Kingdom come down.
How do you embrace the God-joy? Every Monday I’ll be sharing one of my Playdates with God. I would love to hear about yours. It can be anything: outside, quiet time. Maybe it’s solitary. Maybe it’s loud and crowded. Just find Him. Be with Him. Grab my button at the bottom of the page and join us:
The Playdates button: