Consider my absence from the blogosphere for the past couple days a commercial break. Aaaaand, we’re back.
Where are you today? I’ll tell you where I am. I’m in my closet, my office closet. I’m sitting in my pajamas, cross-legged on my desk chair (the one that’s at an awkward height, so I can’t cross my legs under my desk) with bedhead. To my left, there’s an empty coffee cup, a Belvita wrapper, and a shoebox with a slowly dwindling number of cookies in it. On my right, I’ve got a stack of books and papers and notebooks and folders topped with my notes from the sermon at church yesterday.
There are bobby pins and bracelets and headphones and envelopes and papers with varying levels of importance and a bottle of face lotion and an empty CTA card and a lip balm and a jar that used to hold quarters for laundry but is empty now.
That’s where I am. Not getting out of my pajamas and sitting in the organized mess. Well, it’s not really organized. It’s less of a mess and more of a task. I need to go through all this stuff and figure out why it’s here and where it needs to go and if I need to do anything about the fact that it exists.
I know I’m not the only one who sits in this kind of messy task. I also know that Jesus meets me in the middle of the mess. In the middle. He doesn’t ask me to leave to meet Him. He comes to me, even before I ask Him to come.
Because I need Him. And He knows it.
When someone is the strength of your heart and your shield and salvation, it’s a good thing that they don’t wait on the sidelines for an invitation or a good time to interrupt the chaos. It’s a good thing that they will jump right into the mess.
Right into the lack of normal attire and the excess of paper and to-dos. Right into the confusion about priorities and disorganization and feelings.
He meets me where I am.