The Guest at Breakfast

He is real. Breathing. Alive.

He has feelings, and he understands ours.
I’m on a quest to invite him to live and breathe with me, in the most normal moments of my day. In the grimy and mundane and the glittering happy moments.
I want Jesus to be included in each moment.

On a whim this morning I set a place for him at the breakfast table.
Breakfast tends to be a place where squabbles break out, messes made and the day rolls out on the wrong side of the bed. I wanted my little people to have a visible reminder that Jesus IS here, listening, loving, waiting to help.


He isn’t angry, or waiting to condemn. He is just longing to help with each little struggle -mine, and my children’s. Somehow we think that obeying Jesus can be a negative thing. But that is just a lie from the enemy to keep us from expiring the sweetness of fellowship and safe relationship with Jesus.

He didn’t eat any cereal, or leave a mess at his place.
But he WAS there, and my day is already different.


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