My Secret Place

The morning is my secret place.

It feels like a hideaway tucked into the hollow trunk of a tree, in the middle of the woods where no one can find me but the eager birdsong and the presence of God. It feels sacred and hidden, it feels truly quiet. As I flip the pages of my Bible, open my journal, I hear His footsteps crunching on the dead leaves and branches, walking towards me. "I've been waiting for you," He says in His ever-kind and comforting voice, as I take a sip of my coffee. You're always waiting for me, is what I want to say back, but I just smile and inhale the smell of the dew droplets and espresso in my mason jar.

The world sleeps, it's just Him and I here, in this secret place. He sits with me as I write letters to Him in my journal. Letters of jumbled thoughts and questions and words soaked in every emotion. It's all messy, what I bring to Him. It's selfish and whiney too most of the time. It's like an art project gone wrong; I shyly and kind of embarrassedly hand it over with one eye closed. He takes it with love and reads every word carefully. Even when I feel like it's really dark, really depressing, really fearful, He never turns me away. He whispers peace into my messy places, He points me in the right direction and steadies my anxious heart. He lovingly tells me when I'm messing up, and reminds me that love is the mission. I open my Bible and feel His nudges and reminders and truths as I read. He sits with me like a Friend. He teaches me like a Father. He comforts me like a Mother. I sit in the rising light and in His presence, which is my favorite place to be.

I rub my eyes because I'm still a little tired, but there's nowhere else I'd rather be but in this secret place. The awakening of my soul echoes within my body, slowly helping my eyes catch up.

The sun begins to come up, and the sunrise is always astounding. It never gets old. But secretly, that place right before colors begin to twirl around my head, is my favorite. The deep blue of morning; not black like the night sky, not baby blue like the afternoon, but that almost-dawn colored blue. That time of day that doesn't seem to have a name, right before the light begins to rise with the coming sun. It feels like silence is in swaying in the air with her eyes closed, moving sweetly to the music of the fading stars. In a world that is loud and busy and endless with distraction, this is where I am overcome with a feeling of renewed purpose. And that purpose is worship, it's rest, it's Spirit. And it's easy to worship here (most mornings) because the universe feels big and there's no pull for productivity and to-do's. There are no crying babies in cribs; the dirty dishes aren't pestering me yet. This is where I feel my soul restored - in the silence, in the deep blue of morning, in the presence of Jesus. Before the day, before the noise, before the demands and distractions.

"Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed" (NIV). We see a picture of Jesus waking up early to spend time with God in Mark 1:35; His own morning routine. I imagine Him here with me in my own early mornings. Not only His Spirit, but the personhood of Jesus. Jesus the man. Jesus as God and human. I imagine His tired eyes and weary bones and God's whispers and words flooding His soul, allowing His body to catch up, just like mine. I don't know how He did it without an iced oatmilk latte, but different times I guess. I feel solidarity with His life. I feel a closeness to Him that is unmatched at any time of the day. I feel that this is where our intimacy is restored; not because He loves me more in the morning than any other part of the day, but because I am more quiet and focused and stilled. No demands from the kids, no dinging from the phone, no distractions from the world. Just silence. Just the rising light. Just the birds singing and morning smell. Just Jesus and I in our secret place.

On days I wake up early and follow Jesus' whisper into His presence, my days are immensely better. My whole day flows out of a place of prayer and rest, rather than snoozing and then rushing. Most days it is hard to get out of bed, really hard. I want to sink into the warmth of my covers and pillows, and sleep just a few more minutes...just a few more minutes. I want my eyes to stay heavy and shut for as long as possible. But most of the time this leaves me more tired than when I get up and let my soul rest before the day begins. There are seasons where I'm really great at getting up on the first alarm, even waking up before it, ready for my morning routine. And there are seasons (like this summer) where I don't even set an alarm and don't get out of bed until I absolutely need to. I always find the seasons where I am consistently spending time with Jesus in the mornings more joyful, more peaceful, and life-giving. It feels more like a gift than a hinderance. I'm so thankful Jesus invites us into His presence; inviting us to walk by the Spirit that is full of life and goodness, rather than by our own strength that is easily wearied.

Where is your secret place?