At 5:47 A.M. on Monday, I started sobbing. Walking in a dark woods where nobody could see me, I ugly cried. At one point, I had to stop walking because I couldn’t see straight. I had been listening to a song whose lyrics spoke into a wound my therapist and I had been discussing for months. The truth of Scripture in the lyrics broke me—or more accurately, poured into my brokenness.
This was not the first time this has happened, not even on this mountain. My morning hikes with Jesus and headphones have often given me beautiful relational sensations and inspirational revelations. I come home from the woods inspired in my faith, drawn to people in my life, and excited about creative projects.
Sometimes, like Monday, it’s just biblical truth expressed in music. Other times, my headphones play sermons from pastors or audiobooks from people diving into Scripture. Every once in a while, I listen to a passage of Scripture from multiple translations in YouVersion’s Bible app. Regularly, those miles are accompanied by podcast interviews with people sharing what they’re learning on their journey.
Growing up, I was told that the best Christians woke up early every morning, got on their knees on a hard floor, and then read a big, black Bible. The upper castes of our faith stretched that “quiet time” from a few minutes to a full hour, and that was the standard we were given along with a bunch of clichés.
Between my wiggles, my short attention span, and a version of the Bible that read like Shakespeare, I struggled with it for decades. I felt less-than from within my lower caste of Christianity.
Over and over again, the Bible describes our relationship to Jesus in terms of a romantic relationship, a wedding day couple, or an eternal marriage. I keep going back to that analogy as I try to learn the heart of Jesus. If “morning devotions” is supposed to be what keeps my relationship with Heaven active, I’ve realized that it’s okay if that looks different for me than it does for pastors in red ties and black suits.
Crystal (my wife of 21 years) and I stay connected in different ways. Some days, it’s a sticky note left on a desk or car window. Other days it’s a card. Sometimes, it’s going on a scenic drive, a slow walk, or a grocery run together. At other times, it’s a snuggle, a movie, or a delectable dinner. Sometimes, I enjoy my wife a lot when we’re having meaningful conversations with friends. I can feel close to her on occasion even when not physically near her—listening to a marriage book, a podcast interview, or music that appeals to sentimentality or sensuality. We keep boxes of conversation-starter cards around the house to prompt new conversations into our 23-year-old friendship. We’ve used a lot of emojis in text conversations and lots of words in emails.
What I’m saying is that relational devotion takes different shapes and sizes, various rhythms and schedules. She doesn’t get up at dawn to read my books or blog posts and then get on her knees to verbally work through a checklist. She could, I guess; and if that worked for her, I wouldn’t ask her to stop—just to do it where I can’t see it. I don’t expect her to relate to me the same way everyday. We just live together.
That’s where I’ve gotten with Jesus. In 2019, I read and/or listened to the entire Protestant Bible in one calendar year. Last year, I worked through all four gospels in one month. Both checklist-based practices often left me convicted and led to authentic prayers; but that way of relating to God rarely felt fully formed, finished, or sufficient. If that works for you, I hope you lean into that time and space with everything in you.
For me, I need to study the Bible intently and intentionally with people I trust instead of alone. I hear his heart when I pray around a circle in a neon vest or around a fire pit in a buddy’s back yard. When I get alone with Jesus, I like to touch the leaves and bark and streams he created. I rub fronds and flowers in my hands and then inhale deeply. I spend a lot of my minutes or hours with Jesus while wearing headphones, but I also take them off and listen to morning or evening breezes in the trees. I’ll sit for hours watching his lightning shows. Sometimes, I need my journal or my laptop to process my relationship with Jesus and the world. When I do that next to a river or in front of a sunset, I sense silent whispers—questions and comments like I get at my counselor’s office.
I’m not getting any “morning devotions” points from whoever used to keep score, but I feel like I know Jesus better than I ever have. And this sounds weird, but I better sense being known by Jesus too—even though he has always fully and utterly known me.
Anyway, I’ve written all of this for whoever needs to hear that you can experience Jesus in more than the ways tradition has dictated. Spiritual disciplines require work and are rarely easy. Good gardens need tending, as do intimate relationships. But they also don’t have to be drudgery, either. Just as with marriage, sometimes what drives you is duty; and sometimes it’s romance. But whatever a relationship with Jesus is, it doesn’t have to be boring, disembodied, or impersonal.
Wherever and however you connect deeply with Jesus, I hope you go there and do that a lot.
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