It was a remarkably perfect start to my morning. My coffee was strong and my workout was on point. My kids were (finally) in school after Omicron. And I was set to spend uninterrupted time with God. No offspring bounding in with complaints of boredom, no chores that needed my immediate attention. Even the notoriously insistent doorbell, which rings an astounding number of times every day in India, co-operated with soul-calming silence.

But then it began. The distractions weren’t from the outside. My thoughts whirled around like a washing machine spinning at its sudsiest.

Have I got all the groceries I need for dinner?

Should I respond to that text before I “officially” start my quiet time?

Is that my stomach growling? Maybe I should eat something first. White bread with marmalade with a smidge of butter for breakfast? I wonder if that’s too many carbs. Hang the carbs. I’ll lay off the gluten at dinner… Speaking of dinner, I should really get those groceries soon.  

Well, that’s usually how my prayers start to unravel.

But this morning, it was more intense. It was more than distraction. It was an emotional spiral. I went from praying—to strategizing an “intervention” for someone who I “so sure” was making a poor decision. I went from talking to God—to an imaginary conversation with this person to convince them that I was so right. I went from being still in the presence of God—to giving Him frenzied “suggestions” on how He should manage the situation at hand.

At that moment, as I indulged in these make-believe interventions and conversations, it felt good. I felt good. Till I didn’t. Till I realized that I’d kicked peace to the curb just so I could get on this emotional, I’m-right-you’re-wrong ride.

Friend, maybe you’ve experienced this, too. One moment, you’re on your knees in deep communion with God. The next, your mind is on Amazon Prime wondering when those Nespresso coffee pods will be delivered, or, like me, having a full-blown pretend conversation with someone who has pressed your buttons.

But this morning, even as my mind wandered, I felt God pull me back. I felt a tug in my spirit. I felt a voice saying, “Stay with Me.”

God’s Word says in Isaiah 26:3: You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.

There it is again—that word, “stay.” When you stay somewhere, you put your bags down for a bit.  You don’t strew your luggage in the lobby or the front desk or the elevator of a hotel you’ve checked into. You keep it all in one place because Room 341 (or whatever) with that amazing ocean view (one can hope) is the place you’re staying at. “Stay” is defined as to “remain in the same place.”  It’s different from a quick visit.

You know what God doesn’t promise in that verse? That we will experience His perfect peace even if let our minds wander through a myriad of thoughts like the carousel of entertainment options on Netflix. Instead, God promises peace to those whose thoughts are fixed on Him. Some translations refer to a “steadfast” mind or minds that are “set” on God.

No, God doesn’t have a personal vendetta against those with goldfish-like attention spans. What this verse points to is a heart posture where, often, distracted thoughts spring from a distracted heart that doesn’t put its trust in God.

So, this morning, instead of the soundtrack of my tumbling thoughts and the voiceover over my make-believe conversations, I began to pray aloud. I left my emotional baggage with God instead of strewing it in the hallway of my self-will or the elevator of my pride. By the grace of God, I didn’t pretend my sticky situation didn’t exist. Instead, I handed it over to Him because I know that despite my, ahem, “wise suggestions” He is in control.

As I put my trust in Him to work things out for my good and His glory, He exchanged my distracted thoughts for His perfect peace. It sounds simple. It was simple. But it wasn’t easy. It took some wrestling with God. It took some time alone. It took some unclenching of fists. But then came His peace. It filled every crevice of my anxious heart. It seeped into dark corners of fear. It washed over me till I felt “kept” in that peace as He promised.

Tomorrow, my coffee may be just as strong, my workout just as intense, and my thoughts just as distracted and anxious. But He’s still the same God. And His promises don’t change. So I’ll be going back to Him with my sticky situation. And I pray you will too.

---

If you liked what you read, SUBSCRIBE for FREE so you get my posts in your inbox. Or you can find me on Facebook or Instagram

Photo by Tara Winstead from Pexels