This morning, I woke up and got into my usual quiet time routine. As I’m getting in a better habit of doing, I got to a time where I just sat in silence. I’ve come to love this silence. Before, my quiet time wasn’t always so quiet, as I usually found a way to fill those precious hours with everything except silence. It was busy-ness, tiredness, and delay. This silence has now afforded me peace (even if momentary) and abundance.
As a busy mom to a three-year-old, I’ve learned that I need that space. Usually, it isn’t filled with more than feeling a beautiful wave of love lifting me up, just enough to get me going into a full-on day of outdoor adventures and discussions about space exploration.
So, this morning, I was a little shocked to close my bible, spiritual book, and journal and to immediately hear this in my heart:
“Johanna, I know you’re disappointed about your current circumstances. Please trust me and release the worry to me.”
I started to weep. I didn’t have the courage to bring that prayer to God, but He got right to work. In my shock, I didn’t have time to overthink it. I cried a little bit more, then reluctantly, turned over that burden to Him.
The weight was released, and then something strange happened. This is what came:
“Let me tell you about the future church. The church will be a place where people are seen, loved/love, and healed—more than it ever has before.”
I was so confused. This was a million miles from my thoughts. Who am I to hear what’s on your heart? I’m not a church leader. I can’t do very much with this.
But it just kept flowing:
“People come to the altar, and they are seen, loved, and they receive healing. This is what I always wanted to church to be.”
The imagery was too beautiful. The altar is not just a side operation but the centerpiece where grace flows out to everything else the church does.
The next part stuck with me the rest of the week: “People don’t say ‘broken’ and ‘sinful’ any more because they’ve become more articulate about seeing the source of their pain.”
Instead, they say things like, “I’m grieving a huge loss, and my entire family has turned on me. I’ve never felt so alone.” They say, “I’m feeling numb and want to feel joy again.” Or, “I have tried everything to fix myself, and I haven’t gotten anywhere.” Or, “I’ve looked for answers to my sadness, and I’m coming up short.”
As I began to pray through the list of people suffering around me, I began to chuckle. What would have happened if I didn’t give up that worry? I could have had a beautiful time of God ministering to my broken spirit. Instead, just for today, I got to see what God can give me when I release worry completely, sometimes receiving something wild and extraordinary.
What are you holding onto today? What could you release? What might be waiting for you on the other side of worry?