I see myself holding a baby. There’s a sense that I have to focus only on this baby. I realize this baby is Jesus. I try to put him down in a carrier and am distracted by things around the house. What does it even mean to sit at his feet? I feel bored and have real things to get done. I get the feeling over and over to stop neglecting Jesus and to stop all my distractions. I wonder if this is how Mary felt? What it was like when Jesus sat alone on his own, looking at the room around him. Was he a perfect baby that didn’t cry? Was her attention to him constant or broken like mine?

I’m sitting looking at him, and all around me are things that need to get done. I say I’m sorry Lord for not sitting at your feet, but really they are empty words. I’m not truly sorry. Lord, so many things must be done.

Would you like to give these tasks and agendas to the Lord?

Lord, I give you these incomplete tasks. I hand Jesus my to-do list. I sense he is a baby because he is doing something new. Lord what are you doing? “Carry me.” It strikes me that Jesus must be carried, and that he chose me to carry him, chose us to carry him. Lord, I repent of all my distractions, of seeing you as secondary to them, or a distraction to my to-do list, for neglecting you. Carrying you, looking to you is the only thing that matters.

What new thing are you doing?

“Carry me.” I pick up the Lord from the carrier It’s like the carrier was allowing me to be invulnerable to the reality of carrying Jesus. Like it gives me the luxury to put him where I want him, or to put him in the backseat of my car (life/ministry) Lord I give you all my reservations. I give you this carrier. This carrier can’t do my responsibilities for me, or relieve me from my mission. “The time is now. Don’t wait.”

I leave the house with Jesus and it is dark and freezing, snowing. It’s a dark night of faith and we sometimes leave where we are comfortable. We are going farther and farther away from all the distractions and projects that need to be done. I can see a bigger picture. This is the beauty of traveling.

I hear the Lord say, “What do you want? What do you need?” I don’t know Lord, what do I need? “Steadfastness” for what? “the journey” Lord, thank you, please give me steadfastness for the journey. What journey anyway? “Focus on the eternal city.” What does that look like? I see myself with binoculars looking at the New Jerusalem, but I keep putting them down after looking once. I begin to gaze steadfastly at the city. I realize that wisdom, motivation, zeal, purity, perspective begin to flood my life now as I look to the city. What does it look like to constantly gaze at this city in real life? I hear the words of my pastor from Egypt, who speaks broken english “believe me this is a real city, not 80% real, 100% real. You must look at this city with faith. Look for this city like Abraham with all your life and choices and decisions.” Lord, give me revelation of this true and living city, of eternity, of living my life in light of eternity. Give me steadfastness and revelation for the journey so I can choose wisdom today.

I feel like I already have these things, and I don’t see how what I have now can increase or be built on. Afterall, I’m already on this journey and have been. I begin to see myself hedged in on every side, trying to break out like a horse in a stall. It is uncomfortable, clostrophobic, and limiting. Again, I can’t see the bigger picture, just the four walls of this stable. I hear the Lord say, “I have the keys to unlock the prison doors.” Lord, unlock this prison door. Give me vision and freedom to go where you are taking me – and to take you where I go.