I saw the notification for a missed call from my brother. No voice mail, no follow-up text. My heart dropped. Something terrible must have happened.

Panicked, I called him back right away. He picked up laughing. 

“Sorry!” he said. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. I didn’t even mean to call!”

“But,” he added, “it happened at the most chaotic moment of my morning, so I figured you would’ve been the perfect person anyway.”

We laughed long and hard. I peeled my anxiety off the ceiling. He shared his morning chaos, well known to working parents: a sick kid, a closed daycare, a last-minute scramble for back-up. 

I told him I’d missed his call because I was doing a mad-dash clean-up of our messy house. Our beloved summer babysitter was on her way over, and even though she knew our chaos, the current state of affairs was too much, even for our nearest and dearest.

“See, I told you,” he laughed again. “You know chaos better than anyone!”

After we got off the phone, I kept thinking about his words, that I’d be the perfect person to call in chaos.

Truth is, he’s right in more ways than one. As a working mother of five kids, I live amid chaos 24/7. Sometimes it overwhelms me, but over the years I have built up muscles I didn’t know I had. Muscles that help me juggle seven people’s schedules, hunger, needs, and joys; keep a house sorta running for all of us to survive; and tend to my body, heart, and soul while caring for those I’m called to love.

But in a deeper way, I’ve become well-acquainted with other chaos I never wanted. 

Grief. Illness. Suffering. Death.

I keep praying for peace and tranquility in my life. But that doesn’t seem to be what God sends. God keeps asking me to build up my strength and capacity for chaos — to become someone who can sit with others in their hard places, and dig deep into solidarity and compassion.

One of my favorite Scripture passages (as someone who keeps finding herself in chaos) comes from the Bible’s first words: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters” (Genesis 1:1-2 NIV).

Another translation says “The earth was complete chaos, and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters” (Genesis 1:2 NRSVUE). First, there was darkness and chaos, unnerving and empty. But then God’s Spirit moved, and the Word was spoken: Let there be light.

I’ve long loved the image of the Spirit hovering over the waters, gentle as a bird or rushing as a breeze, as God creates for the first time out of chaos. 

Because more often than not, my own life feels chaotic. In small ways — what are we having for dinner, where is that kid’s permission slip, did anyone change the laundry, when was that bill due, is someone getting sick upstairs? — and in big ways. 

Why did I get cancer? 

Why couldn’t our children survive? 

How does the world keep falling apart, worse and worse every day?

Am I doing what I’m supposed to be doing amid all this mess?

Over the years, as I’ve spent much time in chaos, reflecting on chaos, I’ve come to realize how much the Genesis creation story teaches us about the conflicts and challenges we encounter in our own lives. 

First, chaos is only — and always — the start of the story. Morning sickness, messy first drafts, and even the Monday school rush have taught me that beginnings can be difficult. But we can’t lose heart when we encounter chaos. God might be drawing near in ways we can’t see, hovering close to our murky waters. Every masterpiece starts with a sketch, and even chaos can be the first step to something beautiful coming next.

Second, we can’t forget to breathe. The word for Spirit in Hebrew is ruah, which can be translated as wind, breath, or spirit. When I get tense, anxious, or fearful in the face of chaos, I often hold my breath and forget how much it helps to slow down and breathe deeply. As small as it sounds, breathing reminds me of the presence of God’s Holy Spirit within me, breathed into my lungs by God at the beginning of my life. When I reconnect with the Spirit that moved like a mighty wind at the dawn of creation, I remember that I have never been left alone to face the chaos on my own. 

Finally, in a strange way, chaos can remind us that God is near — a sign that the Spirit is ready to create and recreate among us.

God is already here. When chaos comes — and it will come — we don’t have to get entangled or entrapped within it; we just need to hover over it. Because the truth is, we can’t complete the creative, restorative, or redemptive work of God. All we can do is trust that the Spirit is present.

God is always hovering close, whenever and wherever we need. 

Listen to today’s devotion at the player below or wherever you stream podcasts.

Leave a Comment