By Lydia Jentzen Will
The door slams behind me, and I wave as the car makes its way down the street and out of sight before I head up the driveway towards our house. Behind the old, green barn at the back of the property, I can see the sky glowing pink, the sun starting her journey across the sky. Day has begun.
The house is still dark. I have stolen away in the early morning with my mom to go on our daily walk. I enter as quietly as I can, removing running shoes and switching the coffee maker on all in one motion.
I know that in just a few minutes I will be surrounded by little ones in pajamas, looking for some breakfast, so I fill a glass with water and flip through the Bible sitting on the counter, looking for a small kernel, something to hold on to during this long day.
On a whim, I turn on some hymns. Beautiful chords and words fill the house as the sun streams through my window. What if today was lived out, just one continuous exercise in worship?
In Tinkerbell pajamas, she quietly joins me in the kitchen. “Hi, Mom. Can I have some cereal? It sounds like church in here…”
The rest of the kids make their way down and we gather up on the couch, jostling to make space for all to fit. Even the littlest ones know the sign of the cross, although sometimes we have to “start over!” to make sure we get it just right. The Bible is read right off my smart phone app, the daily readings along with a few prayers from the Liturgy of Hours.
What if today was lived out, just one continuous exercise in worship?
Ritual and Liturgy have always touched my heart, something I’m sure I picked up in the Traditional service as a child. There is just something comforting about repeating the truths of the Gospel day after day, year after year, season after season, practicing the faith that we confess as a family.
My son reads the Old Testament reading from the beat-up Bible I received in the third grade that is kept handy on the coffee table for all to share. We tack up verses all around the house to meditate on in our daily walk. Grace over the kitchen sink, by the bathroom mirror, tucked next to the kids’ drawings on the dining room wall. God’s words of radical love tacked up where all can see.
Practicing the Faith that we confess as a family.
That’s just it, really. An intimate faith is one that can be held firmly, yet gently shown to others. An aroma that permeates our lives; the flicker of a flame right here at the center of our home. I may not always get quiet time on my own, but I can lay hold of God’s Word and live.
An intimate faith is one that can be held firmly, yet gently shown to others.
My whole day could be a worship service. With or without hymns. Even wiping down windows and rinsing breakfast dishes could be all an overflowing exercise in worship. A life of continuous prayer. If I were to live life this way, it could change everything…
“Through him then let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God…”
Sunday is a long way off still, and I’ll need a daily dose of Living Water to get through this week.
She hums “Holy, Holy, Holy” between mouthfuls of Cheerios. Our eyes meet. Yes.
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