I’ve put a personal ban on the phrase “quiet time.”
Same with “Jesus time.”
“Time with the Lord.”
“Quality time with God.”
And any other variant of that phrase.
When you read through that list, what type of imagery comes to mind? Here’s mine:
Early morning. Glowing candles. A dim bedroom or a quiet space somewhere in a forest. An open Bible, a scribbled-in notebook, a pen, a spread of highlighters. The sound of soft instrumentals or swaying leaves in your ears. An engaged mind. A heart that feels full, happy, content, near to its Maker. Closed eyes. Folded hands. Whispered words.
This is a beautiful picture, isn’t it? It’s what I’ve always wanted my “quiet times” to look like: an internal and external state of peace and serenity.
But here’s the reality:
I struggle deeply (and have my whole life) with waking up early. It’s a good day if I have enough time to get showered and perhaps eat a crumb or drink a drop of water before I rush out the door to wherever I need to go, probably still running about fifteen minutes behind. There have been days upon days when my Bible lies untouched, my journal pages blank, my pens and highlighters capped. Sometimes I make a point to play calming “worship music” (another phrase I have some beef with) while I’m brushing my teeth or driving to work. On the really good days, I might even use my driving time to pray.
And as much as I love “spending time with God” in nature, it’s rare that I think to bring my Bible along for the hike.
What I’m saying is…the days I achieve my ideal “quiet time” are few and far between. And on those other days, I find myself feeling a little like the child who didn’t live up to her dad’s expectations. I imagine God shaking his head and tapping his foot, waiting for me to get my act together enough to spend the time with Him that He demands.
How easily I forget that His posture toward me is one of waiting arms. Of a dad counting down the seconds until His daughter comes through the door so He can gather her into His arms and lift her high above His head with a burst of delighted laughter.
And here’s the other truth: my daily (or weekly, or even monthly during particularly rough seasons) “time with Him” is not — and never has been — my only time with Him.
My time with Him is every day.
Every moment.
Every breath.
He lives in me, and I in Him.
Of course those times of intentional Scripture study are important. Of course He longs for us to be in His Word, to drink from the bottomless well of His goodness and wisdom. Of course He wants us to make prayer one of our highest priorities.
But I wonder sometimes, at the risk of sounding too far on the grace end of the grace-and-truth spectrum, if He cares less about open books (Bibles, journals, theological commentaries, etc.) and more about open hearts.
Having the Bible constantly within reach (be it in book or phone form) is a relatively new experience for the Christian church. In fact, it’s a privilege for those of us who live in countries where our faith is not yet forbidden — and we should never take that privilege for granted.
But before God’s people had direct access to His Word, they had direct access to Him. After Jesus made a restored relationship between the Father and His wayward children possible again, He made a promise to those who believed in Him that He would always be with them. We can’t see His smiling eyes or feel the warmth of His arms around us quite yet, but He is here.
Closer than the breath that gives life to our lungs.
Closer than the heart that beats against our chest.
Closer than the skin that clothes our fragile bones.
Immanuel is not a word reserved for Christmastime. It is a declaration of the life-changing reality that the same God who paints a new sunset every night is the God who named Himself so we would remember, every time we say or sing or sob it, that He is with us.
I won’t shame or judge anyone who uses terms like “Jesus time” or “spending time with God.” I occasionally slip back into the habit myself.
But the next time you find that phrase on the tip of your tongue, I gently encourage you to pause, take in a deep, slow, breath, and remind your soul of this truth:
No matter how quiet or loud the space you find yourself in, God is in it with you.
Even now, You are spending time with Him.
Even now, He is here.
ABOUT THE BLOGGER:
Kati Lynn Tena grew up in Chester County and graduated from Oxford Area High School. After earning her bachelor’s degree in writing from the University of Pittsburgh, she returned to the area and got a job working for a local library. Seven years later, a man walked into the library looking for DVDs and complimented one of her tattoos. In April of 2025 Kati married this man, and the two of them are currently living the love story God wrote for them in an adorable little house on the same street where she was raised. Kati currently works part-time doing marketing for a local youth center, and she spends the remainder of her time hanging out with her husband and friends, working on her own writing and art ventures, and slowly improving her Spanish.