Today we cleaned. WE. My husband and I. Together. Both. At the same time. For one hour.
I asked – multiple times, but no one is counting – if he would like to clean with me. It started off as a “would you like to” and quickly turned into a “please help me for one hour!” I even offered to set an alarm and then we could stop when the alarm went off! I was more than thrilled when he agreed and we went to work – him in the living room and me in the kitchen.
I finished the kitchen and began the laundry and made the bed. He came into the bedroom just as I was finishing and said to me, “there’s your hour.” Then proceeded to sit on the sofa. I smiled, not at all disappointed in getting “only an hour” because that’s what I requested. That’s what I got. And that was how he took time out of his Saturday morning (when he could have been playing with his new Xbox) to show me some love.
When he said, “there’s your hour,” it made me think. In the American church (probably in the church all over, but I’ve not been elsewhere and know little of them) we encourage one another to have quiet time with the Lord each morning. To set aside an hour to study our Bible, pray, and find rest in Him. This practice is biblical. It mimics Jesus’ action of getting alone with His Father in prayer.
I believe it’s a great discipline (I have quite a bit to say on discipline, but we’ll save that for another time). But how often do we have this hour and then say with our actions, even if not with our words, “there’s your hour” to the Lord? Then we proceed to continue on with our lives as if He isn’t with us. As if we didn’t just have that hour. As if He didn’t ask for our lives and not just for an hour.
This isn’t the first time this thought has come up recently. I trust it won’t be the last. Every day I’m learning to give my husband at least what he asks and to give God more than an hour.