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An Uncrowded Heart

  • Writer: Bridget Leenstra
    Bridget Leenstra
  • Apr 22
  • 2 min read

My friend Todd recently crafted a written piece pondering the intentionality with which the ancient Celtic tradition steps into the idea of prayer without ceasing.* He pulls together the questions around the why and how, and proposes that prayer is not added to life but is breathed into it. The thin places of nearness, of weighty warmth and clarity, are made of a heart that is no longer crowded. A soul in whom God finds room to be near.


What crowds my heart lately? Distraction in the movements of the ordinary day, worries about parenting a teenager, the ridiculous need to be relevant to that teenager's friends, planning a wedding, laziness, yard maintenance, ennui. Prayer has lately been a place that feels unavailable there, in the crowdedness of all the noise. I say, "Please hold, God. I'll make my way to you soon. Just let me wade through all this molasses of clamor. I'm coming. I'm coming. Here's some nice hold music so it doesn't seem you're waiting so long."


And the result is inevitably my old performer self rising to the rescue. If I can't find the discipline to read one of the many worthwhile books on my shelf, then maybe I need to take a class. Then I will be forced to read, report and converse and because I want to appear well I will do the work and that will get me moving. And then I will be able to clear the space and find my Abba. Right.


The problem is that I am only adding another couple of party guests to the crowd in my heart. Obligation and performance, please meet distraction, worry, questionable worth, inadequacy, procrastination and introversion. Guys, shove over and make room for these two.


It's so funny to put this into words. In what world would adding all those things together equal a spacious soul? You'd have to be deluded to think this clears a path for anything, especially the presence of God. And that I know experientially that I am not called to make my way or wade through the clamor to find Him, and yet...as reliably as the tide, here I am having this chat with myself and God again.


Here is the real invitation, from Prayer, Vol. 3 by Strahan Coleman:


May you give up your distracted self to the

handiwork of God, whose eyes and mind are

set on you with immovable resolve, longing

that He may steal you away from a life of

splintered desire, seating you in peace. (p 19)


The place where the soul hears the whisper, "Peace, be still," and responds with relief. The crowded heart that notices His nearness (because He is always near) and calls out, "Abba! I'm a little stuck. Would you join me here, show me what matters to you, and order the rest for me in your good and tender way?"


Whole, uncrowded heart. Spacious, available soul. Dwelling place for God.


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