Thy Kingdom Come

I'm curled up in my pajamas, in the chair in the corner of my bedroom. It's the chair I toss clothes on when I'm too lazy to hang them up, or my bag when when I get in from work. The all-purpose, catch all chair.

But lately, I've felt compelled to keep it clean. I've hung my clothes, and propped my bag elsewhere. The chair has been sitting there in the corner, empty and inviting me to come. To sit, to breathe, to slow down.

(Other than my laptop screen) the only light in my bedroom is from candles. My favorite incense is burning and filling the air with a spicy, smoky, beautiful scent. In the corner where I'm sitting are all of my visual reminders. A stone with the quote that inspired this blog. A railway spike. A crucifix from Mexico. Artwork that reminds me of specific words from Scripture, and encouragements to truly live. A tiny clay oil lamp that a friend brought from Nazareth. Next to the stone and the spike a candle burns - one I don't often burn - a gift from a dear friend the day I was baptized - given with a half-serious admonishment to burn it and remember that day.

And, across the room is a painting that a dear friend did as a gift to me. Square, maybe two feet by two feet. Mostly black, though rich with texture she added, and then, light, and beauty, coming out of nothingness. She titled it, "Thy Kingdom Come." I love this painting, and I deliberately hung it where I could see it when I settle into this chair, this corner of my bedroom to pray.

I didn't know where to even start today - the only words I could think of were, "Jesus, I'm tired, and it's heavy." It's been a Monday in the truest Garfield sense of the word. Cold, rainy weather, late trains this morning, cranky, tired people at the office. A friend in distress. A much needed word of truth spoken, but stinging.

I'm tired, and it's heavy.

So I'm sitting here in the candlelight, breathing incense, and staring at my barely lit painting.

Thy Kingdom Come.

Maybe that's all I really need to ask for tonight.

Thy Kingdom Come in my terrible Monday sort of day.

Thy Kingdom Come in the moments at night when I lay awake unable to sleep, knowing I'm going to pay for it in the morning.

Thy Kingdom Come in the lives of hurting friends.

Thy Kingdom Come in truth spoken gently and firmly.

Thy Kingdom Come in the Bible study I'm working to give leadership to.

Thy Kingdom Come in the life of the one for whom I had keys cut today.

Thy Kingdom Come in lunch with a friend tomorrow, and a concert tomorrow night.

Thy Kingdom Come in tiny moments of light, in tea, in hot showers, in incense, in stretching, in reading, in remembering to breathe and working to trust.

Abba, Thy Kingdom Come.