Not Just Another Monday

Adoration makes a heart ready. It’s diving into the pool — before testing the water to see if you really want to immerse.

I’ve found a funny little quirk about myself: when my heart feels cold, I don’t want to swim. Inertia allures me into waiting for some miraculous moment which might sweep me away from my dusty way of thinking, all the while I am missing minutes that can be turned upside down.

The mystery of Jesus is in my now.

So what better time is there to adore — and to ask my friends across-the-miles who are scooting up to their computers to plug-in, to un-plug with me. Those few minutes over laundry, or on the way to water cooler, or running to the post office are ripe for harvest.

Our souls are waiting to be written on with a new word – His Word. Our hearts, however cold they may feel on this Monday morning, have opportunity to thaw beside His warm kindling.

Don’t wait until it feels right to pray God’s word back to God, I say to myself.

My minutes were meant for beauty.

(Each Monday, the column of adoration to the right-side of my blog moves front-and-center, here, and I invite others who are doing the same — stretching their heart to lift God’s Word up and back to Him, despite every obstacle the day presents — to add their link below under “Choosing Adoration”. You can link people back here from your post by grabbing the code on the right side of my blog. If you don’t have a blog but are, yourself, a lover of words and of God and of God’s word, feel free to add an adoration of your own in the comment section. Whether there is one of us or one hundred — and even if the words are written “merely” on our hearts — we will give Him the praise He’s due.)

You will show me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy; At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore. Psalm 16:11**

Why am I so quick to forget that when I sit with You, even in impromptu moments, I have a chance at joy. You peek in, You see my feeble, frail attempts at fullness and Your hand gives an exchange.

The offering doesn’t have a stipulation. When I’ve reached wisdom in the longer years or come to the end of myself I might expect fullness of joy. In those rare times where the fullness of heaven intersects my circumstances and I witness full, I might expect fullness of joy. When life draws me a win, I might expect fullness of joy.

But here, now, tripping over laundry to finish dinner preparations while they squeal on their bikes outside, You fall like cool rain on hot pavement and I realize I never knew just how thirsty I was for Your drink.

Jesus, You are so other. When my life speaks of loss and not-yet, You say now. When what I use to measure the success of my life, or my day, or my hour reveals failed results, You open Your hand to me.

Standing right near Your side or, better, underneath Your spigot, I drink the Word of a God-Man who takes me to places of communion and connection that make me forget what I’m not and get lost in who You are.

God, joyful God, You give joy liberally. God, knowing God, You open my eyes to know a drop of fullness. God, author-of-life You give me a second draft. A new story. I can start again. I can come anew. And it’s only just the beginning.

This joy You offer me is intangible, yet so real. It rests on a Person, on a covenant, on an offering that is not worn out by years at risk of tearing like *I* am worn by years, at risk of breaking. It is new everyday. You are new everyday. I worship You God, unending. Forevermore. I dip my toe in and I want to be overwhelmed, consumed, by this kind of river.

How can I have my mundanity transformed by You and walk away without wanting more? You offer fullness now, yet the fullness is such that tomorrow, there is even more. Fullness of joy-expanding.

**For a context to this little space on my blog, read: Why I Adore. You can easily subscribe to these devotional meditations as they are delivered, by using this feed: or by entering your email address in the second box on the right-hand side… (scroll up a bit).

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