Sometimes No Rest Is Just What The Weary Need

Blogging at 4:30 AM is never a good idea. It's harder to write late at night because it takes like, five tries to spell things correctly...even things that I totally know how to spell...either my brain can't spell, or my fingers can't type, or both. It almost always also results in run-on, rambling sentences. I know that. I still do it. I feel inspired more often late at night, and that's just the way it is. So if this post stinks or makes little sense, the early hour is an easy scapegoat. And if it sounds like the random, fragmented ramblings of a sleep-deprived coffee junkie who is young enough to not really know what she's talking about anyways, well, that's just par for the course. 

Disclaimer presented and fair warning given, let's get down to business.

Something has become a nasty habit of mine. It's been a habit for a long while, but I didn't realize it until just tonight. Or, if I did realize it earlier, it was only by my subconscious mind, which the rest of my mind pretty much ignores, so it doesn't really count.

When I do something wrong, when I sin against a person, I don't find it all that difficult to apologize to them and tell them that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did, will you forgive me? Thanks. Friends again? Sweet. And then all is right with the world. Except it's not. Something is still pending; business is not finished. 

I haven't apologized to God.

I really don't know why, but I have a hard time approaching the throne of grace and asking for forgiveness from my Father, even though I know that I will be forgiven, that God does not hold grudges. I know He wants me to come to Him, to acknowledge my wrong and let Him wipe the slate clean.

But I don't, much too often. I'm nervous to talk to God when I feel unclean, sinful. I know He feels my sin more acutely than I ever could, that it grieves Him more deeply than I could ever know or understand. And for that reason, many times I'm too ashamed to broach the subject with Him. Instead, I just keep my distance, and hope it goes away on its own.

But leaving that business pending, leaving it unfinished like that, doesn't help anything. It makes everything worse, as a matter of fact. It eats at me, slowly, like an internal leprosy, slowly devouring everything that brings me joy.

The longer I go with un-dealt-with sin in my life, the more I drift from where I should be, and the more miserable my life becomes. And then I become calloused; even as I continue sinning, I hardly even feel it anymore, like the frog in the hot water, it gets warmer and warmer until I'm boiling alive and I don't even realize. The leprosy inside me is raging unchecked, and I can feel the despondency, but no longer understand the source.

I avoid my Bible like the plague, praying doesn't happen, or if it does, it's not sincere, and I even avoid my Christian music, opting instead for something that I hope will lift my spirits, but never really does. Something is missing, something big, and in the back of my mind I know what it is, but something is still keeping me from returning, from believing myself to be the prodigal son, coming home after so long a drought of love and joy. Pride has so many faces, so many manifestations. 

But our Father is nothing if not merciful, and He does not leave us to ourselves! He finds us wherever we are, whatever predicament in which we found ourselves, He comes to us, makes us realize where we are, how far we've strayed. And after that realization has set in, and we cry out for help, He delights in pulling us out of our self-dug pit, making us look beautiful again, and returning us to the fold. Starting fresh, like it never

happened. Forgiveness, true and pure.

Sometimes he does this late at night, say, 4:30 AM. Sometimes he makes it so we can't sleep...can't sleep...can't sleep...for hours and hours. Until we realize that sleep isn't going to happen and we get up and make coffee. And then we get the idea that maybe, just maybe, since it's so late at night, nobody will notice if we read our Bible, just a little. Maybe now, it'll be okay, nobody will see the sinful soul inside that becomes hideously apparent in the undefiled light of those sacred pages.

And so, the redemptive process begins, and it doesn't take long before the soul has been convicted and is crying out to its Creator, as it should've done long ago. And, as you knew would be the case way back in the beginning, the Father stands close by, ready, oh so ready, to forgive and forget. Not only removing the ugly, sinful waste that has been collecting like a slimy residue on your soul, but also restoring all the wonderful gifts that you had all but forgotten, like peace and rest for the weary soul, and oh, the joy that you'd forgotten about! All restored, fully, without reservation.

The transformation, sudden and complete, almost makes you sob with relief, almost makes you physically fold in half at the reprieve from the weight gone, the water once boiling, now fresh and cool and clean, the leprosy vanished and the damage repaired from one moment to the next. It feels too good to be true, too clean to be real, too fresh for the mileage that you know lies behind you.

But that's our Father; that's who He is, what He loves to do for us. It's amazing, it's something that nobody deserves, but everybody is invited to partake. Wherever you are, whatever desert you are walking through, however long it's been, your Creator stands ready and willing to relieve you of your burden and let you experience life beautifully, abundantly, full and free.

And now it's 6:00 AM… when I was supposed to wake up. But somewhere along the way whatever fatigue I felt dissolved away, and even though I feel awake and fresh right now, I suppose I'm actually just riding an adrenaline rush and it probably won't be long before the hours catch up with me. But after the night I've had, I don't suppose sleep was on the menu anyway. Not that I mind… I feel better than I have in far too long, and it has nothing to do with sleep. :)