God of Tea Time

I have started a new morning ritual. I sit for as long as there is still hot tea in my cup and I commit to doing nothing other than being loved by God.

I cater to no ones expectations here. Not even the expectations I have imagined or created God to have of me. The goal is to commune. As I am. As we are.

I don’t show up here regretful or apologetic. I show up as a person He wants to sit with because I am. Maybe, just MAYBE, I am exactly the me He wants me to be right now.

I choose to not open my Bible here. I do this to remember God did not show up because I opened my Bible that day. He shows up because of nothing I have done or any efforts I’ve gone to with hopes of earning my way here. This love exist from none of my efforts. I choose to stop trying to hijack the most beautiful part of this love by working so hard for it and instead I sit.

There is no shiny version of myself to send to my meetings with Him. But I choose to acknowledge I am a person He has deemed worthy of showing up to sit with. Knowing this is both humbling and empowering and keeps me showing up to my kitchen table each morning.

I make no requests here and no promises other than the commitment to show up again tomorrow. This is a homecoming worth showing up for.

I choose to exist in this space separate from what I have done or the person I think I have become and just be loved. I imagine Jesus to be sipping on a cup of hot Jasmine tea while we commune. He is not the God that sits on my shoulder and begs me to do what is right. He is the God of tea time.

He honors my ten minutes, my pausing, my stopping, my sinking, by showing up.

I take my last sip of tea that is now cold. I stand up from this place and need to be no one and need to prove nothing. I am the me He wants me to be at this very moment. Being loved by Him is the destination and I can get there each day. This surely is THE daily bread. I begin the day, I indeed lack nothing.