Making Space as Surrender

I've been wrestling with the phrase make space for God. I don't want my spiritual practices to become another list of things I should be doing. I don't want to imagine that if I pray enough, sit in silence long enough, or pay close enough attention, I can somehow make God show up. Because God is already here.

So perhaps making space isn't really about creating something at all. Maybe making space is an act of surrender. It's releasing my need to make something happen. Releasing the pressure to have a meaningful experience with God. Releasing even my attempts to notice God particularly well.

Instead, I can rest in what is already true: God is present. God is acting. God is holding me.

And from that place of surrender, I can make actual, embodied space in my life. I can put down my phone. Sit in silence. Pick up a paintbrush. Take a walk. Pray. Wonder. Pay attention. Not because these things bring God closer, but because I am learning to orient my life toward the God who is already close.

That's the part of making space I don't want to lose. The space is my actual life—my house, my body, my work, my relationships, my neighborhood, my time. I want all of it to be increasingly oriented around God.

But that orientation begins with surrender, not effort. So maybe I can keep asking myself each month, How will I make space for God? As long as I remember that the question isn't really What spiritual things will I accomplish this month?

It's closer to: Where can I stop striving? How might I turn toward the God who is already here?

And maybe before I make any plans at all, I can breathe:

Inhale: You are already here.

Exhale: I surrender to your presence.

Making space isn't how I get myself to God. It's surrendering to the God who is already here.