I don’t often find myself in prayer on my living room floor thanking God for my home. 

Over the last 10 years, I haven’t really found myself in prayer for much of anything, if I’m being completely honest. 

But after watching an episode of Tidying Up With Marie Kondo, I fell in love with the thought. I emptied my drawers. I thanked dozens of articles of clothing I purchased on Amazon on a whim, and threw them in a “to donate” bin.

I folded the rest into color coordinated squares and stacked them in my drawers, careful only to keep the items that truly evoked that gift we all long for in the midst of something as mundane as clearing and sorting clothes: joy. 

One week later, my anxiety about housework was at bay. My relationship with my husband improved. I found time to rest and have clarity about our family’s future. 

For the first time in a long time, I felt true peace. A peace that passed all understanding, right down to my bones. 

It’s what made me feel the primal urge to kneel on the ground in the middle of my living room carpet, sprinkled with Cheez-it crumbs and other toddler traces. But instead of thanking my house, I was prompted to thank God for it, instead. 

I thanked Him for this season – even for the difficult parts that braided us tightly together.

And then I saw this on Facebook:

“Girl, read your Bible. You can eat your veggies, lift your weights, wash your face, and toss all that doesn’t spark joy. But until you find Jesus you’ll never find peace and purpose.”

My initial thought?

“This is why the rest of the world hates Christians.”

Because only we could take something as positive as eating kale and rejecting American consumerism and turn it into some sort of war we need to fight.

I’ve read articles and Instagram posts critIquing movements and figures like Marie Kondo, Dave Ramsey and Rachel Hollis for their lack of Biblical theology or their alignment with Western values. 

They write crazy books about living within your means, being generous and loving toward others, being grateful for what you have, respecting your body, standing up for what’s right, and rejecting the notion of people pleasing in pursuit of a Much Grander Plan.

All Gospel. All the time.

I’m not saying that praying to your books, or washing your face will align you on the path of righteousness. We all know plenty of neat freaks who are jerks.

But I reject, wholeheartedly, the notion that God can’t be found in messages that make us uncomfortable. In messages that ask us to give up what we don’t need, to persevere in the midst of trials, to pray for strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow. 

Because God is there. In your Bible and in viral Netflix benders. He’s everywhere.

If you fall into this false “us versus them” mentality, you’re putting God into an adorable little box that will serve nothing more than to organize your spatulas and wine openers in the kitchen.

Following Christ means taking care of your body. 

Following Christ means living beneath your means. 

Following Christ means advocating for moderation, both in our eating and spending habits. It probably means sucking it up and eating a little bit of kale every now and then. 

Following Christ means religion that goes beyond listening to safe sermons with its facts straight, but its heart crooked. With messages that mistake grace for complacency. 

And it probably means kneeling on the ground and thanking God for what He’s done in your life. Right now.  

I believe God can be found in the magic of tidying up. 

I believe He can be found in washing your face and perseverance. 

I believe He can be found in dying to your urges and living in a Bigger Story.

If we’re guaranteed false prophets within the ring of Christianity, we must also assume that God has the autonomy to speak His Truth to us outside of our Western perimeter.

There’s joy and peace sparked there, too.