Holy Moments

Holy Moments

Yesterday, I watched as my friend turned sister let her 7 year old boy interrupt her much needed adult conversation time to smoosh her face as a way of loving on her, needing her.

Last night, I sat with girlfriends as we prayed over and intervened for a dear friend who is in the thick battle of loving God over any other desire.

And this morning. This morning I laid on cold tile and spoke with my Father God, as sickness hovered above and through me.

 

Holy Moments.

 

These are holy moments.

And as I sit here thinking back on them, I find myself hungry for more of them. And I don’t care how they come. Come scattered and few. Come clumped and piled. I don’t care. But let me see holy moments that still my soul and remind my heart, “This, this is how you see Him. This is what matters. Moments like these. Moments like those.”

Oh God, let me see these moments as times I am brought to you. To your feet. To your lap. Because when I see the women of God circled over the friend, I am really seeing your son intervening on our behalf. And when I see a mother smiling at the interruption of her sweet child, I am really seeing the arms of my Father God open and ready, waiting to embrace me. And when I see sickness holding me, keeping me to the floor of that upstairs bathroom, I really see that tree, from long ago, holding Him, keeping Him, as He is wounded for our iniquity.

Holy Moments.

The moments that still your soul, and remind you of more. Remind you of deeper things. May 2014 be a year of these. Clumped and piled. Scattered and few. Just let them come.

Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s