Music from the Heart: Deep In Love With You by Michael W. Smith
From my journal (today’s entry):
I’ve stayed home from church today in a desperate attempt to find some quality time at the feet of Jesus. I miss Him so much. Once again I have allowed so many other “worthy” endeavors to crowd my days, my mind and my heart that there has been little room left for the One whose heart beats passionately for me.
My heart is swimming with a mix of emotions: sorrow over having caused Him even the slightest twinge of pain; an ever-deepening appreciation for His grace as I experience, yet again, His comforting embrace, holding me close as we reconnect; an overwhelming sense of His love for me – that unconditional, tender, intense love that I have come to find familiar and life-giving.
Once again, I am crumbled in tears at His feet, longing for a return to the sweet intimacy that we have shared so many times before. The Martha in me, being the strong, focused, admittedly controlling administrator, too often takes center stage, leaving Mary unobtrusively waiting in the wings.
Today, at least for this moment, I am Mary.
Mary. That is such a simple, common name for a woman who in one moment quietly made a choice that placed her at the feet of Jesus, and who without a word demonstrated worship in its purest form. Surrounded by things that needed to be done and people who wanted her to do them, Mary set her gaze on the face of Jesus. She sat down on the floor at His feet and listened to Him as He shared His heart. Worship doesn’t get any more simple and pure than that – wordless wonder as we look on His face and listen to His voice.
This is where I find myself this morning. Surrounded by the stuff of life, with a to-do-list that borders on being shamefully long, I have chosen to take these precious hours today to spend at His feet. I must. I am desperate. Like the dry summer ground is currently thirsting for rain, my soul is screaming for a deluge of His presence to come and sweep me away into an ocean of more. I’m ready to get wet.
So here I am, sitting on the living room floor, with the music of fellow psalmists and minstrels filling the room with a sweet atmosphere of worship. They sing songs of surrender and abandon, songs that tell of His grace, mercy and love, leaving me to sit and listen. Bible, pen, paper, and Kleenex are close-by.
Martha is getting a “time-out.” This is Mary’s moment.
“She (Martha) had a sister called Mary,
Who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what He said.”