I was 20 years old my first summer working at camp as a counselor. I got the summer job in Texas before I “had to get an internship the following year.” I wanted a fun getaway. It turned into a life-altering few months.
About 5 weeks into being a camp counselor for middle school boys, I was put on a team called “work crew” for the week. It’s not a week off, but more or less a week away from the constant mental, emotional, spiritual work of leading kids in a cabin by serving non-stop behind the scenes.
Halfway through the week, with a little bit more freedom in the middle of the afternoon, I wandered up to a meeting room at camp I had never been into. It was filled with old couches and donated books.
With about 30 minutes of alone time until my next assignment, I started to peruse the books and came across a curious title: “The Practice of the Presence of God.” Little did I know that this short book would be a proverbial flag planted in the ground of my soul.
I plopped down on one of the couches and spent some time with Brother Lawrence.
As a young French man in the early 1600s, Nicolas Herman had a spiritual awakening. A handful of years later, he consecrated his life to God, joined a monastery, and was assigned to spend the majority of his days in the kitchen, washing dishes as a lay brother.
Not a priest or preacher. Not a scholar or teacher. Just a cook and dishwasher.
But it was impressed upon Brother Lawrence quickly that deep behind the walls of the monastery kitchen, he could meet with God like no other brother could.
He wasn’t chasing prestige, knowledge, or religious titles. He was chasing presence.
Monastic life offered him the space and structure to focus entirely on cultivating an ongoing relationship with God—what he later called “the practice of the presence of God.”
He was never just washing dishes—he was meeting with God. Every movement, every scrub, every pot became a prayer.
My 20 years on earth had been spent subconsciously aiming for the approval of man. At the time,I genuinely didn’t know any better.
As I started to read his book, all alone in this hot summer camp meeting room, on that old couch, I sensed God whispering the beginning of a new way to think about life with Him.
“Maybe I could live just as close to God wherever I am as BrotherLawrence did in the kitchen of his monastery. Maybe I don’t need the attention of the people around me—just the Father’s attention. Maybe I have his full attention already right now.”
That’s the invitation of the Secret Place—it’s not only about location, it’s about attention.
Attention flows more freely when the space is right. And the Father seems to favor places that are quiet, secluded, and ready to receive Him with a keen ear and open heart.
Though the title of Part 2 is clear, we have to recognize that the Secret Place is both a where and a when. It IS a physical environment—and it’s also a dedicated time.
There’s no clearer example of the place and time of the Secret Place than the “getaway life” ofJesus.
Early in my leadership days I felt pulled all over the place. It felt like (literally) 500 people every day of the summer wanted time with me. I was overwhelmed and probably overworked—and had a personal expectation of over-doing it all.
So, I finally had enough and spent an off-day reading through the Gospels to see if I could spot a pattern in Jesus’ rhythms of leadership.
And quickly I noticed that pretty much everyday, he would:
GO UP: alone to be with the Father…
COME DOWN: to gather His disciples…
GO OUT: to heal and teach…
GETAWAY: to rest and reflect.
And repeat daily.
Jesus didn’t wing his time with the Father—He planned it. He woke up early, left the house, and went to a quiet place.
And then whatever happened there, he brought it down to his daily life with the crowds.
This was the Son of God’s physical environment and a dedicated time. And if the Son of God needed a daily Secret Place to align with the Father, how much more do we?
You don’t stumble into the sacred—you build it.
Brother Lawrence’s book has impacted me so much over the years that I’ve developed what I call “Presence Practices” to install into my daily life.
These are dedicated, intentional methods that I’ve had to work hard (by His grace) to consciously turn into habits to meet with God.
Yes, I’m forgetful and prideful and still believe at times that I can do it all on my own. So, I need these habits to help keep me aligned with the truth that “apart from Jesus I can do nothing.”
These are ideas from my life that can be for you. I pray you consider copying them or creating your own!
Life pulls us in a hundred directions every day. Husband, dad, leader, friend, steward of finances, health, and even hobbies—every role asks for something different. And if you’re like me, it’s easy to feel like everything will fall apart if you don’t hold it all together perfectly. But we weren’t made to carry the weight of our world—we were made to walk with God through it.
One of the most exhausting enemies of modern life is context switching—jumping from one task, role, or environment to another without fully resetting our focus. Studies show this kind of constant shifting wrecks our productivity and clarity. But more than that, it subtly trains us to live disconnected—mentally, emotionally, spiritually. Overtime, we stop abiding in God and start performing on our own.
That’s why I started creating “Presence Checkpoints”—simple physical places in my day where I pause, reset, and remember God is with me.
When I make coffee in the morning, it now triggers the thought to breathe slowly and think on an attribute of God that comes to mind. When I pull into the school zone, I call it the “PrayerZone” and I pray out loud with my kids. When I pull into my driveway after work, I ask the Spirit to help me be present as a dad and to take my work hat off.
These aren’t “extra” moments—they’re already part of my day. But now, they’ve become sacred.
Interruptions don’t have to be distractions—they can be alarms for presence. Jesus walked through a world full of interruptions, but He never lost connection with the Father. And now, by the Holy Spirit, we can walk the same way. You don’t need more time—you need more awareness.
Choose 3–5 spots you return to on a daily basis, assign each one a simple pause or prayer, and let them become altars in your everyday life.
I call them “Presence Checkpoints,” but they’re really just “Mini Secret Places.”
When we moved into our first house in Tyler, Texas, my wife let me turn a small extra bedroom into a home office. That 8×8 ft space became my first true Secret Place—where I met with God in the early mornings and late nights.
I read, wrestled, and journaled through life and leadership. Years later, after moving into a new home with more land but fewer rooms, I lost that dedicated space. And honestly, I got pretty moody about it.
But one day, while hauling Christmas decorations out to an old metal boat shed in the backyard, God opened my eyes. That dusty storage space—with its cracked concrete and no windows—was His invitation. “Hey buddy,” I sensed Him whisper, “welcome to our new place.”
I cleaned it out, added some windows and tiny HVAC unit, and moved my desk and chair inside. The Shed became holy ground. God had given me not just a new space, but a new season.
It wasn’t polished, but it was prepared. Since then, my best ideas, most honest prayers, and clearest guidance have come from that simple, sacred Shed.
You don’t need a metal building in your backyard. You need intention. Whether it’s a room, a chair, a closet—the Secret Place is built when you make space for it.
And what happens there? It overflows—into your conversations, leadership, parenting, relationships, everything.
Your time in the private place changes your time in the public space. This place set apart becomes a portal.
Susanna Wesley had 19 children and almost no personal space. But she was fiercely committed to meeting with God.
Without a private room or quiet hour, she created her own kind of sanctuary: she’d sit in a chair in the middle of the chaos and pull her apron over her head. That was her Secret Place. Her children knew—“when the apron was up, Mama was with Jesus, and she wasn’t to be disturbed.”
That simple act of devotion became a spiritual legacy. Two of her sons, John and Charles Wesley, would go on to lead a movement that changed history. But it all started under that apron—in a Secret Place carved out of noise, not away from it. Susanna reminds us: the environment matters, but the intentionality is what makes it sacred.
I don’t wear an apron. But I do wear a hat almost everyday. Typically when I’m alone in my office, I’ve started to pull my hat slightly off my head and lower the bill over my eyes. I don’t think anyone knows what I’m doing, and I typically do it in private—but it’s been a helpful practice for me to get into a state of prayer.
For many of us, the car is the only quiet space we get in a day. And we need to turn commutes into communion.
Several years ago, one of my college-aged staffers shared with me that when she would run into town to get supplies for camp, she would “buckle Jesus up” in her passenger seat.
It was her way of saying, “Jesus, I believe you’re with me and I want you to come alongside me in my errands today. Let’s talk like two best friends just hanging out.”
I loved this idea so much. It’s so simple that it almost seems silly! And as I’ve implemented this into my commutes every so often, it serves as a reminder that any moment is holy.
Your car can become a closet. Whether it’s silence, worship, or prayer, don’t underestimate the sacred potential of the space you already move through. God meets us wherever we make room.
Jesus often withdrew to quiet, desolate places to pray (Luke 5:16). If the Son of God needed space to be alone with the Father, so do we. There’s something powerful about stepping away from the noise—not just for minutes, but for hours or days.
You don’t have to start with a week-long retreat. But you can definitely start small.
Build a rhythm: daily time in your Secret Place, a weekly Sabbath hour of rest and reflection, a monthly half-day away with God, or a once a year 1–2 day spiritual retreat.
These longer moments of stillness reset your soul and recalibrate your life. They’re not luxuries—they’re lifelines.
Naming something gives it weight and meaning. It transforms an ordinary space into something sacred. Get creative with whatever space you sense the Lord wanting you to commit to Him.
Call it “The Upper Room,” “The ListeningChair,” or “The Tent.” When you name your Secret Place, you give your mind and soul a landmark—a dedicated place to return to, again and again.
Please message me if you start naming some places in your life! I would love to hear about them.
You can set helpful, simple “triggers” to click into a mindset or atmosphere of the Secret Place.
Light a candle. Play a specific worship or instrumental song (I’ve got so many great movie score, lo-fi, electric guitar playlists now). Open your journal and smell the page.
These simple tools train your body and mind to slow down and receive. Trigger the environment to invite you into awareness.
These are just a handful of ideas for you. You see, the Secret Place doesn’t just happen—it’s built. And it must be built with intention.
Whether it’s a chair by a window, a shed in the backyard, or the quiet of your car, God meets us in the spaces we set apart for Him.
And when you show up to that place—day after day, moment after moment—it begins to form you.
Your surroundings start to shape your soul. Time becomes sacred. Space becomes holy.
And in a world that constantly pulls you outward, the Secret Place calls you inward—into the stillness, into presence, into the Person who is your Secret Place.
Posted Apr 30, 2026
Categories: Spiritual (Browse all)
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