On the floor of a closet for 30 minutes a day for 30 days in a row: that’s how I’m starting this new year.
If you’re thinking that a half-hour of God-time per day ought to be part of my life already, you’re right. In fact, I’ll take it a step further: abiding in the Lord’s presence continually ought to be second nature to me after several decades of Christianity.
But there’s something different about being in a closet—a literal, dark, slightly dusty prayer closet.
Long ago, I created my first PC. It was back in the 90s, and I needed a place to escape the chaos in my life and just be with God, so I designated a small bedroom closet. I didn’t even need to clean it out, since we’d just built the house. I simply threw a blanket and pillow on the floor, along with a CD player (this was back when they were bulky and ugly), a journal, a tiny lamp… Voila! Finished.
I remember the first time I crawled inside that closet. It was so small I couldn’t stretch out, so I sat down on the floor, cross-legged. Then I switched on the tiny lamp and hit the power button on the CD player and waited to see what would happen.
WHOOSH.
The presence of God swept in so quickly and so completely that I started to cry. I was dumbfounded at the difference between sitting in that little closet in the near-darkness versus just a few feet away, on the other side of the door, in the bedroom itself. There was something about those four walls, which served as a boundary between myself and everything else. The sounds from the rest of the house were muffled; in fact, with the music playing I couldn’t hear a thing. And nothing was “pulling on me,” like the pile of laundry waiting to be folded or the stack of bills on the dresser, because I couldn’t see any of that. And even though I hadn’t instructed the other human beings in my home to leave me alone while I was in my closet, and even though they probably thought I was a little daft, they didn’t interrupt. If I’d been sitting in chair in some other room in the house, Bible in hand, they wouldn’t have hesitated to vie for my attention, but there was something different about the PC from day one, and they sensed it.
In the years since, there have been seasons when I’ve had no prayer closet (though this has little to do with lack of space because I’ve discovered that if you want a PC desperately enough, you’ll find somewhere to put it). There have also been sweet seasons of frequent and consistent PC time. What does a person do in a prayer closet, exactly? Sometimes, absolutely nothing. In our society and culture, doing nothing is a spiritual discipline, so I’d just lie there in the Lord’s company. Many times, I wrote. Often, I prayed or read my Bible. Occasionally, I ate lunch or drank a cup of hot tea. Sometimes I read a devotional. More times than I can count, I just chatted with Jesus and let the music speak to my heart. Frequently, I crawled into the PC with the intention of staying just 30 minutes, but the atmosphere was so yummy I wouldn’t come out for an hour and a half.
Annie the Wonder Dog wonders what I’m doing.
Anyway, since we moved a year ago, I’ve been (let’s be honest) lazy about the whole PC thing, and my spirit has been aching for it. So a week ago, I cleared out the guestroom closet floor, added a miniature lamp and some blankets, and committed to never using that space for storage again. I still have Kenny’s suits and a few of my dresses hanging on the rod, but that’s no big deal since there’s still enough room to lie down (albeit barely).
If you could see my house, you might wonder why I need a PC at all. This place has plenty of space for the two of us, including half a dozen cozy spots to curl up with God. Not to mention that since I work from home and my husband doesn’t, I’m here alone virtually every weekday, all day. There’s no chaos in my home like there was in the 90s, so I’m not escaping anything … yet I still need those four walls to set me apart from everything else. I need it to be impossible to see my desk, the laundry, the sink full of dishes. I need all sounds to be muffled except the rhythm of my own breathing or the music playing on my tablet. And I need the darkness.
Yesterday was Day One of the 30 days. As I suspected, the Presence rolled in immediately, creating an atmosphere of peace and deep contentment. Today, when the 30 minutes were up, I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving. So I stayed.
How can you create your own PC? It’s easy:
Decide that the presence of God is worth more than storage space.
Take everything out of a closet and stash it elsewhere (or just clear a space if you’re lucky enough to have walk-ins).
Vacuum up the cobwebs and mouse droppings.
Add a chair or a few blankets, a tiny lamp or lantern, your journal, Bible, etc.
Here’s the most important step: climb in and shut the door.
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