Writings of a Beholder 🌿 10.6.23

God can be found at 3 a.m. on a living room couch

God Can Be Found at 3 a.m. on a Living Room Couch

It’s 3 a.m. on a Tuesday and I can’t sleep.

I toss and turn in my bed, eyes closed, willing myself to fall back into my dreams again. I lose the battle and my racing mind wins as I surrender, frustrated, and toss back the covers, feet landing lightly on the carpet.

I’m not someone who usually struggles to find sleep when woken in the night, but the stress of the past few weeks has finally found its breaking point in me and I quietly shut the bedroom door as I make my way downstairs.

Life lately has just left me feeling heavy and I can sense my body aching to rest as I make myself a 3 a.m. cup of chamomile tea, hoping it will relax me into sleep once again. I feel restless and tired all at the same time — it’s a paradox, I realize — much like the harshness of the kitchen light against the early morning black outside.

The neighborhood sleeps while my body tenses and mind races and even as I cup the warm mug of tea in my hands, wrapping a blanket around me, I can’t shut off the maddening roar of anxiety.

It bubbles up my throat all prickly and unwelcome and I reach for my phone. I’ve been here before, a thousand times, and I know that scrolling through videos and pictures of other people’s lives on social media is only a band-aid that fails to heal the root of this wound. I reach for what will numb my discomfort instead of reaching for the One Who chooses to enter into the hurting places with me.

But He whispers to me anyway, right there, on my living room couch at 3 a.m. He whispers to a woman who feels like a little girl, all scared and not knowing what to do with the anxiety that weighs on her.

He sees me, hands clenched tight, shoulders tensed, brow furrowed as I seek to burrow myself — this anxiety — into some kind of digital escape that always wears off quickly and leaves me feeling empty.

I hear Him whisper familiar words — words I had read just the morning before and had forgotten until He spoke them right to my unsettled heart there in the dark.

“For the Lord will comfort Zion;
he will comfort all her waste places,
and he will make her wilderness like Eden,
and her desert like the garden of the Lord.
Joy and gladness will be found in her,
thanksgiving and melodious song.” (Jeremiah 51:3, CSB)

I put the phone down, shoulders slightly relaxing, not even realizing that my escape had become such a huge part of my burden. I lean in to listen closely this time, paying attention to His nearness. He speaks again, only this time, it sounds like this.

“I will comfort you, Celia;

I will comfort all your waste places.

Let me come and sit with you.”

Tears form and fall and this hollowness I didn’t know I was carrying finds a Home; a safe place to rest and be filled with a Love that heals and makes broken things whole. The Creator of me and everything I see — the God-Man — asks to sit with me. My heart melts and my lungs finally exhale, eyes closing and hands opening to receive His presence with me.

I sense His Spirit drawing near, holding all that I cannot — holding me together so I can finally fall apart. And I do, right there at 3 a.m. on a Tuesday morning, while the rest of my house sleeps, I fall apart and let the tears come as I invite Him to draw close. It’s in those tear-soaked moments that I grasp the deep truth that here in this season as I struggle to behold Him, He is always beholding me.

He sees the anxiety before I even feel it in my body. He knows the tears need to fall long before I grow angry and irritable. And He meets me in the quiet covering of a sleepless night to remind me that His presence never falters, never fails, never leaves.

I wipe my tears, blow my nose, hang my head, and whisper a broken thank you because, at that moment, I have nothing else to give. And He’s so gentle and tender as I hear Him faintly whisper, “I know the pain of your anxiety, the way it lives in your body, and I came to sit in the dark with you.”

Love leaks in and then peace falls through the cracks of my unsettledness as I release my tightly held grip on all of it, melting into Him. I pause to look for Him, leaning in closely to listen and I’m met with amazing grace and a kindness I can’t escape.

Maybe here, in the midst of this anxiety, the invitation is to behold Him beholding me.

Maybe here, it’s in the receiving and remembering of His Love that I find my center in the changing of these seasons.

Maybe here, it’s holding fast to the unimaginable truth that God can be found at 3 a.m. on a living room couch.

Selah.

With you on the journey,

Celia

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Life Lately

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A Breath Prayer for Your Weekend

breathe in:

In God alone.

breathe out:

My soul finds rest. (adapted from Psalm 62:1)

*If you’d like to learn more about the practice of breath prayer, download this complete digital guide to practicing breath prayer.

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Resources & Good Things to Pick Up

Grab some breath prayer cards, a journal, a candle, and other contemplative resources from my Etsy shop: The Beholding Co.

Grab a copy of my Bible study, You Are Beloved: a 21-day study on how to root your identity in the love of God, over on Amazon. If you’d like a free 3-day sample of the study, reply to this email and I’ll send it right over!

My friend and licensed spiritual director, Kari Bartkus, offers an 8-week journaling program for those who want to process their grief and trauma with God within the safety of blank journal pages. I’ve completed the program myself and can say confidently that it was incredibly impactful and healing: Journal Gently

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An Invitation to Pause & Reflect

A regular practice of reflection helps us recognize what’s going on beneath the surface of our souls so we can name it in the Lord’s presence. Because as we learn to name what we feel, what we need, and what we long for, we’re also learning to discern the Spirit’s sweet, gentle voice within our hearts and lives.

Take a few moments today or this weekend to journal or contemplate with the Holy Spirit the following question(s) or prompt(s):

• Are there any hurting or anxious places in your life that the Lord is still waiting to be invited into? What are they?

• What do you normally reach for when you feel anxious or sad?

• How might you create more space in your life to hear God’s gentle voice?

• Is there a breath prayer or other practice that you might engage with as a way to lift your eyes toward God during those unsettling moments of life?