Breathing Eden: Conversations With Godಮಾದರಿ

Waking Sleep

Dark gray pavement stretches out straight and boring. The coffee I grabbed from work is lukewarm now, and cars crowd this busy freeway on all sides. Dusk is falling, and it’ll be 40 minutes before I get home. Turn the radio up. Grasp the steering wheel. Focus on the road.

I am weary, Father. The days are long, but I am grateful for the work I get to do with you. I so want my co-workers to see you in me, your calm in my chaos, your presence easing my worry. I can hear you when I pause. I can see you when I seek. But I forget you a lot, don’t I? Am I doing what I’m supposed to be doing?

When I am with you, I know who I am, and I am content, not restless, but still. But I struggle to stay with you, in the long hours at work, and in the night when I am exhausted. I want to disappear then, open a magazine and see what things I can buy. Or I want to go shopping with girlfriends and leave the stress of everything behind. I use pornography sometimes, too, to distract—or a romance novel. The visuals, the story, overwhelm me, and I place myself in them. I forget you so easily then, and I admit I feel empty. I hate heeding the lie that whispers: “anywhere is better than this place.”

How do I stay with you—and not try to escape—in the middle of stress, in the middle of tough decisions, in the middle of weariness? I don’t even give you a chance, do I?

Wake me up, Father. Help me not be complacent with this life you’ve given me.

Do you think you can ever escape from love? Do you think you can stay away from your home? I don’t force my way into your heart. I pursue you, yes. But I don’t push my way in. And you know this. You know what it is like to be with me and to look for me, yes.

Do you know how I love to watch you, no matter what you are doing? Do you know I have formed you, just like this, to move with grace? I fill you with grace. I fill you with me. Don’t fret, my dear. Don’t worry about the weariness and the disquiet and the restlessness you feel from the work I’ve given you to do. Practice looking for me during the day, when you are at work, just like you do when you are still, with me. For you know what it is like to be with me.

Know that I am present with you, my darling, even when it feels like I am far. In your work and in your play, there is no place I don’t want to be with you. Don’t focus only on doing your days right, whether or not you are doing a good job of seeing me or looking for me. Choose me by loving what I love. Choose me by continuing to seek me. Choose me by desiring to stay.

I am here.

I am with you.

But I am not like you.

I am bigger than you can know. I am more than strength, more than safety. I am all things. You know me, and I only want to show you more. It is good you miss me when you have gone away. It is good you recognize how your heart yearns for me. But ask me to quiet the fears. Ask me to touch my hand upon your heart and deafen you to thoughts of worry. And let me guard your heart, your eyes, your ears, your imagination, your mind. There are dangers that can make your desire to escape weariness be an opportunity to run far away from me.

Be my daughter. Be my girl. Stay.

Stay awake.

Pray:

Father, you hold me. You are near me. In all moments, in all trials I face, and in the regular, everyday moments too, you treasure me. I want to be with you. You have written my name in your book, and you have chosen me, your daughter. You call me beloved, dearly loved. I am yours. Guard my wandering heart and body and mind. Amen.

We hope this Plan encouraged you! Read the complete conversations with God—and engage more deeply with His heart.