God Meets Us Before The House is Ready

The doorbell rings, and suddenly I can see my entire house through somebody else’s eyes.

There’s a dish towel over my shoulder. There’s orange cat hair on the rug, which is impressive considering how much of it Yoshi is still wearing. I shove a laundry basket into the laundry room and shut the door with my hip.

Then I open the front door and say, “Sorry about the house.”

I say it before I say hello.

I’ve been thinking about how quickly I can find something to apologize for when someone comes close enough to see how I live. And how often I do the same thing with God.

I’ll stand at the kitchen sink with my hands in the dishwater, thinking about somebody who hurt me. I’ll know exactly what I want to say. Then I’ll spend so long trying to find a kinder way to say it that I rinse the last plate, pull the plug, and walk away without praying at all.

Some days I spend more time getting my heart ready for God than I spend with Him.

I think I’m being reverent. Sometimes I am. And sometimes I’m hoping that if I give it another day, I’ll have a better version of myself to bring Him. A woman who can say she’s forgiven somebody without immediately remembering the one sentence she still wishes she’d said back.

Then I read this:

“Trust in him at all times, you people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.”
Psalm 62:8

I keep coming back to pour out. I can picture the last of the coffee going down the drain, the grounds stuck to the bottom of the pot. I tip it a little farther. I get what’s left.

I wonder what I’d tell God if I trusted Him with what’s left.

Maybe I’d tell Him I’m still angry, even though the other person probably hasn’t thought about that conversation in months. Maybe I’d tell Him I’m tired of asking for the same thing, and a little afraid of what it would mean to stop asking. Maybe I’d finally admit how much I wanted this year to turn out differently.

I can hear myself wanting to add, I know I should be grateful.

And I am. I can be grateful for the people who will sit around our table and still find myself thinking about someone I wish could be there. I can laugh while I’m passing the potatoes and need a minute to myself when I carry the bowl back to the kitchen. Both things can happen before the potatoes get cold.

I’ve spent some Thanksgivings so busy trying to feel the way I thought I ought to feel that I barely noticed what I actually felt. I knew how to thank God for the food. I was still learning how to talk to Him about what it cost me to sit down at the table that year.

The prayer I keep putting off is often the one that would tell God where I need Him most.

There’s a word in that verse I used to hurry past.

For. Pour out your hearts to Him, for God is our refuge. The psalm gives me a reason I can tell the truth. There is somewhere safe for it to go.

I wonder what that looks like on an ordinary Thursday. Maybe it’s standing at the sink long enough to finish a sentence I usually swallow. Lord, I miss her. I’m still hurt. I wish I knew what to do with both.

I might have to go feed the chickens right after that. The water might still be warm when I come back in. I might have the very same feelings tomorrow. I can tell Him again tomorrow.

I think God would rather hear what I’m muttering at the kitchen sink than wait for me to come up with something prettier.

So this week, while I’m deciding whether the good dishes are worth washing by hand, I’m going to try something. When I catch myself thinking, I’ll talk to God about that when I can be a little more gracious, I’m going to see if I can stay where I am and say one true thing.

God can meet me in the middle of a sentence I’m still figuring out how to say.

Lord, You know what I’ve been leaving out of my prayers. I’ve had my reasons, and some of them have felt pretty good to me. Help me trust You enough to tell You anyway. And when I run out of words, help me stay a little while. Amen.

What’s one sentence you’d pray today if you let yourself say it the way it first comes to you?

 

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I wrote Known and Named, a free guided devotional that explores the names of God and what they reveal about His heart. It’s for the days when you’re standing at the kitchen sink, trying to find the words to pray, and need a little reminder of who’s listening.

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