I sat in a worship service in the black hills tonight. I was surrounded by family and friends and strangers. The candles were lit, the lights low, the music soft and gentle brushing over people’s hearts. It wasn't just quiet, it was still.
We all faced the cross and the words were read, “Take a deep breath. Breathe in and breathe out, breathe the very breath that connects you to the one who made you.”
I closed my eyes tight hoping beyond hope that I could grasp onto that connection. I wanted desperately to feel passionately about my faith again. I have been running on empty. That deep connection to your spirit, the one that lights up your eyes has been missing. The list of things to do weighs heavier on me than I like to admit. Instead of breaking down, I have become numb. I get through the day. I try to laugh and enjoy my family each day. I try to write and find progress on the long list of projects that people are waiting to get from me. I try to somehow just maintain a semi clean home where my family has clothes to wear and something to eat. The monotony of each day with the pressure to accomplish super human possibilities causes me to shut down so that I can keep pressing towards the goal. I accomplish all these things, but they are done with heaviness in my heart and a worn look in my spirit.
My prayers seem rehearsed.
The Biblical teaching to my children when correcting or encouraging them feels empty.
My running in the morning that used to be filled with cries out to God for guidance and help are silent these days. I don’t even know what to say. I fill pages after pages with words for multiple projects and then I have none when I am left alone to share my heart with God.
All the things that I used to do to try to reconnect to my spirit aren't working. Or I am too tired to really care to try.
It feels stale, and worn and tiring.
I used to believe that it was wrong to say such things, till I realized that at some point we all feel that way. About our faith, our life, our relationships. Trying to ignore it never works though.
But tonight, in the black hills of South Dakota, I breathed deep. I breathed out and breathed in.
I was reminded that the very breath I have inside of me is the one God gave me directly. It is his breath that gives us life. And so even in the midst of feeling distant and cold and shut down, I am still connected to him and my spirit because I live.
Because I am alive, he is with me.
Even when I am running on empty, he does not leave me. Every breath I take belongs to him.
I had peace in my soul for the first time in awhile remembering this truth.
I am not alone, nor am I lost.
He remains with me, even when I am over committed and underwhelmed.
He is also with you, in every breath you take.