Excerpt:
one night when I was awakened by a hungry baby, I sat in
my rocking chair nursing and I cried. I prayed, “How do I find you like I used
to, God? I need more than this.” Then I suddenly heard God whisper deep into
the depths of my broken heart, “Thank you for feeding me.”
It was like a spiritual explosion in my heart, a
revolution, a whole upturning of my distorted worldview. God was there,
appearing in the dark of night, in my house, in my nursing child, in my
domestic vocation, in the present moment. And my longing for intimacy with
Jesus suddenly seemed wrapped in dirty diapers and dishes and rare dates out
with my husband. After that night, I saw that church life and my me-prayer —
still very important to me! — were to be servants of my life outside of church.
That my home was my first church. Now I always say, and my charismatic
friends laugh, that saying prayers before meals or bedtime with my children has
become my new mysticism, and shopping for groceries at Walmart, my new mission
trip.
The final example includes some deep questions and struggles...
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