"I love doing this with you"

 I've cycled 25km at this point, with quite a few wrong turns, and a bit of false hope at the end when the end was in sight but it was also still 5km away ouch. Consistently throughout, this still, quiet, lovely little voice kept murmuring, "I love doing this with you." And I want to talk about the mesmerising views and the heights of the cliffs and the peace of the fields, but this whisper is louder than all of it; "I love doing life with you."

I have to preface this with the humbling knowledge that I am no cyclist. I cycled a bit as a teenager, not necessarily for a purpose, but I did enjoy venturing over Northern Irish hills. It wasn't quite the 50km I had willingly signed up for, and this was a significant number of years ago for me to have even retained an ounce of that fitness. And no, it wasn't for a charity or to raise money or for anything more significant than a mini solo retreat and a bit too much determination. Some might say foolish, and they aren't necessarily wrong.

Anyhow, I wanted to go to this island, and public transport isn't reasonable there, driving isn't an option for my visually impaired self and I wanted the time alone. In part, I wanted to be away. I also have such a heart love for the sea and sand and places where no one knows my name. Hence, this was ideal. The weather was unbelievable, and cycling along cliffs with green and farmyards to my right and the waves crashing against the sand to my left was joy-giving, life-bringing and peace-pursuing enough. And then that voice I'm becoming that bit more familiar with speaks, "I love doing this with you."

Don't get me wrong, climbing up the cliffs was not a pretty or perfect sight - especially not when I had to carry my bike up a bunch of steps because of my own inability to follow instructions. The chain has already came off and I had almost resided to walking the bike home and hopping on the next train around 10 minutes into the cycle. I must have checked my keys were definitely most definitely absolutely definitely still in my bag 48 times at this point too. Yet, He speaks, "I love doing this with you."

I've wasted 20 minutes cycling down a dead-end despite the dodgy sharpie on the road sign telling me not to follow Google maps. Another 20 minutes back to where I was before. And I'm frustrated because I want to be on this island and spending time with Jesus and not being an idiot. And into the frustration I can hear, "I love doing this with you; I'm already here."

I can feel His smile when I have to pause to eat a snack. I know He's singing with me in the middle of the empty field. I can hear His affectionate laugh when I hit my head on the road sign I have actively chose to lock my bike to. 

He is already in the journey.

God asks us to give Him everything. He doesn't ask us to do or to be anything in particular but to give Him all our being. Not my job, or my home life, or my hobbies. Well, those too - if He wants everything that's all part of the package. But also my joy and my tiredness. My impatience and my tendency to snap. My forgetfulness and my constant checking I haven't lost something. My hatred for the feeling of suncream and my love for a deep pressure squeeze. My best moments in prayer spaces and my worst moments at work. 

Okay, it is always far more complicated than it seems - I hear you. We all know I'm not one for an exegesis or to give a commentary, though. I could go into the depths of what it means to do everything for the glory of the lord, or to "extol the Lord with all my heart" as it says in Psalm 111. I think the point is more simple, though. Psalm 139 tells us that God "hems us in, behind and before" - it's an underrated snippet from that Psalm that speaks to the fact He already knows and is surrounding us. It goes on to say that God "lays his hand upon me". When I'm on a bike, cycling on a route that looks like the middle of a field, His hand is upon me, and I am surrounded and protected. 

He is with us "- when I awake, I am still with you." (Ps 139:18b). And this is the God whose love endures forever (Psalm 136), whose unfailing love will not be shaken (Isaiah 54:10), who pours out His Spirit upon us as He loves us so that we can know His love for us (Romans 5:5). 

"I love doing this with you."

Perhaps it is one of the most underappreciated aspects of this omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent God. Our minds are undoubtedly too small to comprehend the vastness of God and all He does and knows and says and loves. But I tend to forget that He delights in us, us as individuals, because we are created by Him. I've always wrestled with the idea of prayer and not wanting to treat God as a genie - He does, after all, grant us far more than 3 wishes, and does immeasurably more, out of far greater intentions, to say the least. I'm guilty of trying to do everything 'right'. When I fixate on that, though, I miss the point. And that is to say, I miss the point often. 

Despite this, I know the point should be time with God. There's no right or wrong. Sometimes there is prayer in all of its variation, sometimes it's worship, or simply being present, or every other category we like to create. It doesn't need a label. It looks different to each person, but if I come to God only to 'get' something, then I miss the point. It's the trinity, each in turn. It's slowing down, to be met at our own pace. It's 'climbing into the lap of my heavenly Father' (Pete Greig).

It's spending time with the One who made us, not because we have to, but because He delights in it.

Lord, I love doing this with you.