I spent a total of eight hours (with a Denver layover) flying from Washington, DC to California. I came to spend Christmas with my family. So you can imagine, when I said I was going to drive to Arizona to spend time a day or two with myself and the Lord, no one really understood.
But listening to the Spirit will often leave you in that spot. So despite my family's confusion and my own hesitation, I packed up the car with my guitar, skateboard and camera, and I left.
I drove over five hours, passed the "Welcome to Arizona" sign, and found myself hundreds of miles away from everyone I knew, two days before Christmas, to take a little over 36 hours to spend with the Lord. I needed Him to hold me; I needed to retreat; I needed to hear what He said about me; and how He wanted to make me whole.
And so I sat in a coffee shop, and Sufjan Stevens "Joy to the World" played; and I felt it all deep and quiet and warm like a baby's first Christmas inside my fingertips; this is the perfect place to heal, to prepare, to be present.
This is the perfect place for my soul to find solace. This is the perfect place to allow the Lord to speak; to rebuild; to whisper truth into my storm-beaten soul, which has come against fire and earth-shaking and drowning in the last months (and year). This is the perfect place to prepare for Christmas - the moment when the Lord entered into our chaos. This is the perfect moment, setting, and space - to sit quietly in my mess, and let the Lord whisper (and let my ears become sensitive to His voice, far away from the voices of everyone I know).
And I can hear him speaking.
I am alone, but I am refreshed. I am in solitude, but I am seen. I was scared, but now I am being filled. He knows me. And over a glass of wine and triscuit crackers, I sat alone in a home in Arizona, hundreds of miles away from my family in California, thousands of miles away from my friends and community in Washington, DC, and I let the Lord speak.
I was scared, at first. Scared even to sit and wait; scared to open the Word. But then I read this verse and knew He saw me and loved me and was speaking to me - exactly where I was. He knows me intimately, and even as I was scared to open the pages of a book that I have too often neglected, He spoke sweet honey to my charred and burned heart.
He sees me. He sees you.
If we'd only let Him talk; if we'd only give Him the silence and space to speak - if only we'd try.
It's like sweet honey.
And though everything else is trying to convince you otherwise, do not listen to the noise.
Take the time. See the truth. He is good.
And He's waiting.
Like sweet honey. Let it wash you clean, sticky, and free.