ABIDE
A Five-Day Invitation to Know Jesus
ABIDE
A Five-Day Invitation to Know Jesus
Daily Reflections
INTRODUCTION: From Doing For Jesus to Living With Jesus
There is a frightening possibility at the end of the Sermon on the Mount: We can spend our lives doing things around Jesus and even for Jesus, yet never learn to live with Jesus.
Jesus describes people who know the right language. They call him “Lord.” They are emotionally passionate and spiritually active. They have taught, served, performed miracles, and participated in powerful ministry. Yet Jesus says:
“I never knew you.”
—Matthew 7:23
The danger is not simply that they failed to do enough. Their problem is that they attempted to present Jesus with a spiritual résumé instead of giving him their hearts.
Shared activity is not automatically growing intimacy. We can attend church, serve, sing, pray, give, and believe while slowly losing the simple joy of being with Jesus. We can share a calendar with him without sharing our hearts.
But Jesus’ warning is also an invitation.
You do not have to earn his attention. You do not have to impress him with your accomplishments. Jesus already sees all of you—your faithfulness and your failure, your hunger and your hesitation—and he invites you to stop hiding and make your home in his love.
Jesus calls this way of life abiding:
“I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.”
—John 15:5
The word abide means to remain, stay, dwell, or make your home in. Jesus is inviting you to make your home in his presence as he makes his home in you.
All of us are already abiding in something. We all have an emotional home—a place our minds go when we are tired, afraid, lonely, bored, or left alone with our thoughts. The question is not whether you are abiding. The question is:
What are you abiding in?
Whatever you return to will form you. Whatever holds your attention will shape your desires. Whatever becomes your inner home will eventually produce the fruit of your life.
When we abide in anxiety, distraction, comparison, entertainment, achievement, or the approval of others, those things form us. But when we remain in the love of Jesus, his Spirit slowly produces his fruit in us:
“Love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.”
—Galatians 5:22–23
Fruit does not give life to the tree. Fruit grows because the tree is alive and rooted in a healthy source. In the same way, spiritual fruit is not something we manufacture to prove ourselves to God. It is the natural result of a life increasingly rooted in Jesus.
This five-day journey is not another religious assignment. It is an invitation to begin practicing the presence of God through solitude, silence, Scripture, and contemplative prayer.
Contemplative prayer is not an attempt to empty your mind into nothingness. It is the practice of becoming present to God’s presence. It is setting the attention of your heart on Jesus, receiving his love, and learning to remain with him without needing to accomplish anything.
You may feel distracted. You may not sense anything dramatic. You may wonder whether you are doing it correctly.
That is okay.
The goal is not to have an impressive spiritual experience. The goal is to keep showing up.
For the next five days, find ten to twenty quiet minutes. Bring your Bible, silence your phone, and choose a place where you are unlikely to be interrupted. Read slowly. Breathe deeply. Allow silence to feel uncomfortable. When your mind wanders, gently return your attention to Jesus.
You are not trying to make Jesus come near.
You are waking up to the reality that he is already here.
The opposite of “I never knew you” is not, “I did more for you.”
It is:
I remained with you.
The first and most important goal of apprenticeship to Jesus is simply to be with him—to cultivate an awareness of his presence and attentiveness to his voice as the foundation of your entire life.
“I keep my eyes always on the LORD.
With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken.”
—Psalm 16:8
Also read John 15:1–11 slowly.
“Our part in thus practicing the presence of God is to direct and redirect our minds constantly to Him…Soon our minds will return to God as the needle of a compass constantly returns to the north.”
—Dallas Willard
When you first wake up, where does your mind naturally go?
Maybe it goes immediately to your responsibilities, your phone, your worries, your schedule, or the unresolved conversation from yesterday. In the small spaces throughout your day—at a red light, waiting in line, walking into a meeting—where does your attention drift?
For most of us, it does not naturally return to Jesus.
But our minds can be retrained.
Abiding is not a switch that spiritually mature people suddenly learn to turn on. It is a practiced way of returning our attention to God. Each time you remember Jesus, turn toward him, become distracted, and return again, you are forming a new habit of the soul.
Do not shame yourself when you forget him. The moment you notice that your mind has wandered is itself an invitation to return.
Come back to Jesus.
Come back to his love.
Come back to the vine.
Set a timer for ten minutes.
Sit comfortably with your feet on the floor and your hands open. Allow your body to become still.
Take three slow breaths.
As you breathe in, silently pray:
“Jesus, you are here.”
As you breathe out:
“I return to you.”
Read John 15:4 slowly:
“Remain in me, as I also remain in you.”
Read it three times, leaving a few moments of silence between each reading.
Now sit quietly.
You do not need to produce thoughts, feelings, or words. Simply acknowledge that Jesus is present with you by the Holy Spirit.
When your mind wanders, gently repeat:
“Jesus, I return to you.”
Do not fight your thoughts. Do not criticize yourself. Return as calmly as a compass needle returning north.
Close by praying:
Jesus, retrain my heart to return to you.
Become the home of my thoughts, desires, fears, and hopes.
When I forget you today, gently awaken me again.
Teach me to remain in you. Amen.
Choose three ordinary moments as reminders to return to God:
In each moment, pause for one breath and pray:
“Jesus, you are here. I am here with you.”
Where did my mind naturally go today?
When did I remember Jesus?
Can I receive each return—not as proof of failure, but as another small step toward making my home in him?
“We all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory.”
—2 Corinthians 3:18
Also read Ephesians 3:14–19.
An elderly man was once asked what he was doing as he sat silently in a church for long periods of time. He answered:
“I look at Him, He looks at me, and we are happy.”
Many of us learned that prayer is primarily talking to God.
We bring requests. We confess sins. We thank him. We pray for people we love. These are all important parts of prayer.
But there is another kind of prayer: simply being present to God in love.
Contemplation means to gaze, behold, or look attentively. It does not require you to create a mental picture of Jesus. It means directing the inner attention of your heart toward the reality of who he is.
And as you look toward him, you allow yourself to be seen by him.
You do not present a cleaned-up version of yourself. You do not hide the parts that feel ashamed, distracted, angry, or afraid. You allow Jesus to look upon the whole of you with love.
We often attempt to become more loving through effort. But we become people of love primarily by receiving love. We let God love us into people who resemble him.
You become what you contemplate.
As you gaze upon Jesus—his compassion, gentleness, holiness, strength, patience, and self-giving love—the Spirit slowly transforms you into his image.
Set a timer for twelve minutes.
Become still. Place your hands open in your lap.
Take several slow breaths and pray:
“Jesus, help me become present to your presence.”
Read Ephesians 3:17–19 slowly:
“And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power…to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge.”
Notice the phrase:
“To know this love that surpasses knowledge.”
There is a difference between knowing about God’s love and experiencing yourself as loved by God.
Now sit in silence.
Imagine turning the attention of your heart toward Jesus. You are not trying to see his physical appearance. You are simply becoming aware of his loving presence.
Silently pray:
“Jesus, I look toward you.”
After a few moments, pray:
“Jesus, you see me.”
Allow yourself to be seen exactly as you are today.
When uncomfortable thoughts, emotions, or memories arise, do not hide them. Hold them gently before Jesus and pray:
“This is also part of me—and you love me here.”
Remain in silence for several minutes.
Close with this prayer:
Jesus, I cannot transform myself through effort alone.
Let me know the love that surpasses knowledge.
Look upon every part of me with mercy and truth.
Love me into a person of love. Amen.
Whenever you notice yourself seeking approval, comparing yourself to someone else, or wondering whether you are enough, pause and pray:
“Jesus sees me, knows me, and loves me.”
What was it like to allow Jesus to see me?
Was there any part of myself I wanted to hide?
What might change if I began living from the assurance that I am already loved?
“I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.”
—Philippians 3:8
Also read John 15:9–17.
“The reward for following Jesus is, well, Jesus. It’s the sheer joy of friendship with him.”
—John Mark Comer
It is possible to approach Jesus primarily for what we hope he will give us.
We may want peace, guidance, healing, success, protection, purpose, a stronger marriage, better circumstances, or assurance about eternity. Jesus cares deeply about every part of our lives, and Scripture invites us to bring our requests to him.
But what happens when Jesus himself becomes secondary to the things we want from him?
The people in Matthew 7 presented Jesus with their accomplishments. Their relationship with him had become transactional:
“Look at what we did. Look at what we produced. Look at what we accomplished in your name.”
But Paul eventually regarded his spiritual résumé as worthless compared with the surpassing value of knowing Christ.
Jesus is not merely the means to a better life.
Jesus is the life.
Prayer will continue to feel like a chore when it is only another task we perform to improve ourselves. But prayer becomes friendship when we realize that there is no greater reward hidden behind Jesus.
The reward is Jesus himself.
He called his disciples friends. He invited them to remain in his love. He wanted them near him—not only because of what they could accomplish, but because he loved them.
Today, come to Jesus without an agenda.
Waste a little time with God.
Set a timer for fifteen minutes.
Begin by placing aside your prayer list. You can return to it later. For these few minutes, resist the urge to ask Jesus to solve anything.
Take a slow breath and pray:
“Jesus, I am not here to use you. I am here to be with you.”
Read John 15:9:
“As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love.”
Read it again, emphasizing a different phrase each time:
As the Father has loved me…
So have I loved you…
Remain in my love.
Sit silently with Jesus.
When you feel pressure to accomplish something, release it.
When your mind begins creating a list, return to this prayer:
“You are enough for me.”
You may not feel that the words are completely true yet. That is okay. Offer them as a desire:
“Jesus, teach my heart that you are enough.”
After several minutes of silence, speak naturally to Jesus as you would speak to a trusted friend. Tell him what it is like to be you today. Do not perform. Do not use impressive language. Let yourself be honest.
Then become quiet again.
Close with this prayer:
Jesus, forgive me for the ways I have treated you as a means to an end.
Free me from the exhaustion of proving myself.
Teach me the joy of familiar friendship with you.
Let knowing you become the great treasure of my life. Amen.
Before asking Jesus for something today, first pause and say:
“Jesus, before I ask for your help, I want to acknowledge that I want you.”
Then bring your request honestly.
Do I primarily desire Jesus, or what I hope Jesus will give me?
What makes it difficult for me to believe that simply being with him is worthwhile?
What might friendship with Jesus look like in my ordinary life?
“Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.”
—Mark 1:35
Also read Matthew 6:5–8.
“Without solitude it is virtually impossible to live a spiritual life.”
—Henri Nouwen
When Jesus taught his disciples about prayer, his first instruction was not about what to say. It was about where to go.
“When you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen.”
—Matthew 6:6
Jesus lived in a rhythm of retreat and return.
He retreated from the crowds into quiet places to be with the Father. Then he returned to teach, heal, serve, love, and give himself away.
He inhaled the Father’s love in solitude and exhaled that love into the world.
If Jesus needed quiet places, we should not assume we can remain spiritually healthy without them.
Your secret place does not need to be impressive. It might be a chair in your bedroom, your porch before anyone else wakes up, your parked car, a walking path, or a quiet corner of your yard.
The location matters because you are a person with a body. Environments can either help or sabotage your attention.
Your secret place will not remove every distraction. In fact, silence may initially reveal how noisy your inner world has become. But over time, the place itself can become an invitation. Your body begins to recognize:
This is where I come to be with Jesus.
The secret place is not where you prove your devotion.
It is where you stop performing.
Choose a specific place where you can be alone for fifteen to twenty minutes.
Leave your phone outside the room, place it on airplane mode, or use it only as a timer.
Before you sit down, say aloud:
“Jesus, I am leaving the noise for a few minutes because I want to be with you.”
Sit comfortably and allow your body to become still.
Notice the noises around you without judging them.
Notice the noise within you without trying to silence it immediately.
Take several slow breaths.
Read Mark 1:35 twice.
Now ask:
“Jesus, what did you find in the quiet with the Father?”
Do not force an answer. Let the question lead you into silence.
After several minutes, pray:
“Father, I am here in the secret place. You see me.”
Allow that sentence to settle into you:
The Father sees me.
Not the public version of you.
Not the productive version.
Not the impressive or disappointing version.
You.
Sit in his presence.
When distractions arise, use this simple prayer:
“Father, I am here, and you are here.”
Close by asking:
Father, help me establish a place and rhythm where I can be alone with you.
Meet me in the quiet.
Purify my motives, calm my body, and form my inner life.
Let everything I do in public flow from the life we share in secret. Amen.
Before moving on, decide:
Where will I meet with Jesus?
When will I go there?
What will I remove to protect that time?
Write your answers down.
Begin with a realistic rhythm. Ten intentional minutes practiced consistently will form you more than an unrealistic hour that never happens.
What did the silence reveal about my inner life?
What helped me become attentive to Jesus?
What practical obstacle must I address to return to this place regularly?
“Martha, Martha…you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one.”
—Luke 10:41–42
Also read Matthew 11:28–30.
“You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life.”
—Dallas Willard
The invitation to abide is not primarily a call to add another activity to an already overloaded life.
It is a call to subtraction.
Jesus is not recruiting you to hustle harder. He is the Good Shepherd inviting you to lie down in green pastures.
Many of us sincerely want a deeper relationship with Jesus, but our lives are moving too quickly for sustained attention. We live with very little margin. Every empty moment is filled with noise, content, work, errands, entertainment, or anxiety.
We may say that Jesus is the center of our lives while giving him only the exhausted fragments left over after everything else.
There is no way to live attentively with Jesus without becoming willing to slow down.
This does not necessarily mean quitting your job or abandoning your responsibilities. It may mean going to bed earlier, watching less television, leaving your phone in another room, creating margin between appointments, driving more slowly, or saying no to an obligation that is crowding out your life with God.
Every yes contains a thousand no's.
To say yes to Jesus means saying no to some of the things that keep us hurried, distracted, and unavailable.
This is not deprivation for deprivation’s sake. It is making room for the life that is truly life.
Set aside twenty minutes.
Begin with the words of Jesus:
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
—Matthew 11:28
Take several slow breaths and notice your body.
Where are you tense?
Where do you feel hurried?
Where are you carrying more than Jesus has asked you to carry?
Pray:
“Jesus, I bring you my hurried life.”
Sit silently for several minutes.
Then ask Jesus these questions, one at a time:
What is making me unavailable to you?
What am I doing because I am afraid to disappoint people?
What activity is producing more distraction than life?
What must I say no to in order to say yes to you?
Do not attempt to redesign your entire life today. Listen for one honest, practical response.
Write down what comes to mind.
It might be:
Choose one practice of subtraction for the coming week.
Now sit quietly and breathe this prayer:
As you inhale:
“Jesus, I receive your easy yoke.”
As you exhale:
“I release my hurried life.”
Close with this prayer:
Jesus, my soul was not created for the speed at which I have been living.
Show me what to release.
Give me courage to disappoint the demands that keep me from you.
Teach me your unforced rhythms of grace.
Simplify my life around your presence.
Become the center of gravity for everything I am and everything I do. Amen.
Choose one ordinary activity and do it without hurrying.
Walk slowly.
Eat without looking at your phone.
Drive without constantly changing lanes.
Listen to someone without preparing your response.
As you slow your body, pray:
“Jesus, I refuse to rush past this moment with you.”
What is hurry doing to my soul?
What am I afraid will happen if I slow down?
What is one thing I will remove or change so that life with Jesus is no longer pushed to the edges?