The Chair Where He Keeps Waiting
Last week I shared the chair that shaped my mother's faith. This week, I'd love to show you mine. Pull up a chair, pour a cup of coffee, and let's talk about the quiet place where I've discovered that God has been waiting for me all along.
Worthy Heart Reflection
Last Sunday, I shared a picture of my mom's chair.
The chair where she prayed.
The chair where she watched children walk home from school.
The chair where she faithfully met with God for years.
As I wrote those words, I realized something.
I have a chair too.
Every morning, before the notifications, before the calendar, before the demands of the day begin, I carry my coffee to the same place.
Two chairs sit there.
One for me.
And one for God.
No, I don't believe He physically sits in the other chair.
But making room for Him changed the way I meet with Him.
Years ago, I read a little book called Two Chairs. The idea was beautifully simple: if you want to cultivate a friendship with God, create space that says, You're welcome here.
So I did.
At first, it felt intentional.
Then it became a habit.
Somewhere along the way...
it became holy.
Some mornings I laugh.
Some mornings I cry.
Some mornings I don't have many words at all.
I simply sit.
I listen.
I read.
I pray.
And somehow, every single time, I leave different than I arrived.
Not because all my problems disappear.
They don't.
My marriage still has places that need grace.
The people I love still face battles I cannot fight for them.
My own fears still try to find their way back into my heart.
Life doesn't pause because I spent time with God.
But something inside of me changes.
Peace has a way of speaking louder than fear.
Truth becomes easier to hear than worry.
Love becomes stronger than control.
I'll also confess something.
There are mornings I don't show up.
I'm busy.
I'm distracted.
I convince myself I'll do it later.
And almost without fail, I can tell the difference.
Little frustrations feel bigger.
My patience grows thinner.
My thoughts become noisier.
Not because God has moved.
Because I have.
A few mornings ago, while I sat in those two chairs, a thought quietly crossed my mind.
I wonder if He's waiting for me on the mornings I don't come.
Not waiting with disappointment.
Not keeping score.
Simply waiting like someone who treasures the conversation.
That thought didn't fill me with guilt.
It filled me with gratitude.
What kind of God longs to spend time with us?
The kind who met a woman at a well.
Who walked with discouraged disciples.
Who lingered at dinner tables.
Who still whispers, "Come spend time with Me."
Not because He needs us.
Because He loves us.
People sometimes ask me about my morning routine.
Truthfully, it isn't the coffee.
It isn't the chair.
It isn't even the routine.
It's the relationship.
The chair is simply where I remember who I am.
Before I'm Amy.
Before I'm Mom.
Before I'm wife.
Before I'm Miss Mermaid.
Before I'm "Worthy."
I'm simply His.
And that changes everything.
So if you're reading this today, can I offer you one gentle invitation?
Find your chair.
Maybe it isn't a chair at all.
Maybe it's the driver's seat before you walk into work.
A porch swing.
A park bench.
A quiet corner of your bedroom.
God has never been looking for perfect conditions.
He's always been looking for willing hearts.
There isn't anything magical about my chair.
But there is something beautiful about returning, day after day, to the God who never stopped waiting.
Maybe...He's waiting for you, too.