It's 7:22 pm, and I'm surviving with between 5 - 6 hours of sleep plus a nap today. (I really shouldn't be blogging. Ha! I say this a lot, don't I?) I'm listening to Times by Tenth Avenue North. Mmm. Sweet, hard memories.
And I'm weighed down by this thing called tiredness and by this unnamed thing. I'm not sure what it is. I think it's maybe fear. It's funny how fear compels us, how the strongest desire to run from any pain compels us. Or maybe it's just me. :) And right near me is this plaque. "Don't worry about anything -- instead, pray about everything. Tell God your needs and don't forget to thank Him for His answers. Philippians 4:6." It's hard to pray when you're not for certain of your needs. Maybe this is one of those moments when I try to simply open myself and let Him come in, let Him fix the ruins that fear has made, the ruins my sin has made, the ruins past pain has made. Maybe my only answer is "yes" . . . oh how hard it can be to simply say "yes." Why? I don't know . . . I guess it's because I'm afraid of the answers. I'm afraid of the implications. Or maybe I'm not afraid. Maybe I'm just so selfishly stubborn.
But I really do want love. I want that compelling love that God is. The love that casts out my fear of pain. I want that love that is light and all good, the love that heals after wounding. You know this love? And it's easy to talk about it, to desire it, but how do I open my heart enough to catch it? Or is catching love something done with open hands? Something you can't hoard. Something you stand in as you'd stand in torrential droplets, pouring from dark skies? Is it something that seeps into us as we read the living Word? What do you think?