Your Sacred Design: The Breath of God

A gentle breeze moving through tall grass symbolizes the Holy Spirit, breath, spaciousness, and God’s presence in creation.

Your Sacred Design and the Space Where God Speaks

“God said, ‘Let there be an expanse between the waters, to separate water from water.’” - Genesis 1:6

Last week, we explored earth and water, the places where life takes root and grows. This week, we turn our attention within your sacred design to something far less tangible, yet no less essential, air and space- breath.

In Genesis, before birds fill the sky and before humanity walks upon the earth, God creates space. God creates an expanse, a room of sorts, a place where life can emerge, move, and unfold. I find that fascinating because most of us spend our lives trying to fill space. We fill calendars, conversations, schedules, and even our prayers with words. Yet from the very beginning, God understood something we often forget: life needs room; relationships need room; love needs room.

The Spirit often works by creating room before creating clarity.

The Spirit seems to work this way, too. Before God fills creation, God creates space for creation to become. Perhaps before God can reveal something new within us, God first creates space for us to notice.

Your Sacred Design and the Breath of Life

A few verses later, Genesis offers one of the most intimate images in all of Scripture: “Then the Lord God formed the human from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life.” - Genesis 2:7

Humanity’s first experience is not achievement, or knowledge, or effort, but breath. The first gift we receive is the movement of God within us. For years, I understood this passage intellectually. Then one summer afternoon, it became something much more personal.

More than a decade ago, during the early years of my journey with spiritual direction, my Director invited me to begin paying attention to the Holy Spirit’s movement in my daily life. It was a simple invitation, but one that would change me. One particularly hot Georgia afternoon, I was outside doing farm chores: the chickens needed tending, the horses needed care, the dogs needed feeding. The heat was relentless, and sweat covered nearly every inch of me. Then, without warning, a breeze moved across the pasture. It cooled the sweat on my skin and brought immediate relief. There was nothing extraordinary about it, no vision or angel, not even some dramatic revelation, just a breeze. Yet something about that moment touched me deeply.

That evening, during my Examen prayer, I found myself returning to that experience. As I reflected on my day, I realized that what had felt like an ordinary breeze had somehow become a doorway to a moment of consolation, of being tenderly noticed by God, and, most importantly, of my noticing God. Something awakened within me.

The Spirit was always moving. Awareness opened the door.

That single moment began a relationship with the Holy Spirit that continues to unfold today. The first finding became an invitation to seek, and that seeking has become a life of finding.

Your Sacred Design and the Movement of the Holy Spirit

Throughout Scripture, the Holy Spirit is continually associated with breath, wind, and movement. The Spirit hovers over the waters of creation; the prophets speak as breath enters dry bones; Jesus breathes upon His disciples after the resurrection and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” The same breath that animates creation becomes the breath Christ offers His followers. Creation is not a completed event hidden somewhere in the distant past; it continues as the Spirit continues - as the Breath continues.

This is one of the reasons I love living in accordance with the rhythms of the seasons. Life on a farm constantly reminds me that creation is never standing still. Feeding schedules shift as animal care changes are dictated by the land’s response to the movement of the seasons throughout the year. This never ceases to remind me that everything is moving toward becoming.

I believe the Holy Spirit seems to move this way as well: there are seasons in our lives of expansion, of waiting, of abundance, of pruning, of consolation and desolation, yet beneath them all, the Spirit remains like breath. Our breath is always there, always moving within us, always available, and speaks to the seasons of our lives through its rhythm - a rhythm that does not ask questions, only responds to what life is in front of us.

An Embodied Prayer for Your Sacred Design

Pause for a moment. Place one hand gently over your heart and the other over your abdomen. Without changing anything, notice your breath. Notice that it is already happening: you did not create it or earn it; you receive it.

Allow your attention to rest on the inhale. Then the exhale.

Notice the subtle movement within your body.

Notice the space between breaths.

Notice the room that already exists within you.

After several breaths, gently ask: When was the last time I felt unexpectedly touched by beauty, peace, wonder, relief, or presence?

Do not analyze the answer. Remember.

Sit with the memory for a few moments.

Then write down whatever arises.

Discovering Your Sacred Design Through Air and Space

One of the gifts of air is freedom. One of the gifts of space is possibility. Air invites movement; space invites openness. Together, they create room for imagination, creativity, wonder, vision, and discernment. Yet like every gift, they can also become distorted when disconnected from love. Air can become scattered. Space can become emptiness rather than spaciousness.

For some of us, this appears as overwhelm, too many ideas, possibilities; too many directions pulling at once. We move so quickly that we lose touch with the quiet voice we are trying to hear. For others, silence feels uncomfortable, so every available space becomes filled with noise, activity, or distraction. These are not failures! Often, they are protective adaptations that once helped us survive, yet continually invite us back to the anchoring breath, to the silent stillness, to the spaciousness where discernment becomes possible. God invites us back into relationship.

The Holy Spirit is often less like a thunderclap and more like a breeze.

The Spirit can be easy to overlook, yet it is impossible to possess. It always moves, invites, and waits to be noticed, just like love.

Returning to Your Sacred Design

As you move through this week, carry this question gently into prayer: Where have I recently experienced a breeze that I almost dismissed?

Perhaps it was a conversation, a moment of beauty such as a sunrise, a feeling of gratitude, or a sudden sense of peace. Perhaps it came as a quiet knowing or a moment of being mysteriously accompanied.

Pay attention.

For me, the first finding became an invitation to seek, and the seeking has become a life of finding.

The invitation is usually smaller than you expect, and more personal than you imagine. The question is not whether God is speaking. The question is whether we have created enough space to notice.

From the garden within, where God delights in you,

Kimi