I’m exhausted. Yeah, I said it. I’m not one to complain, I don’t think…I am one to overanalyze and pick apart to decipher what’s what and how I could possibly improve. In my prayer this morning, I told God all the things on my mind. And by things, I mean heavy things (how the church will impact our community) and little things (the pain in my elbow). I sit and wonder (about the little things ironically enough) if God healed us, then why does my arm hurt? I have faith. I have hope. I have love. I believe He can do it, so why on this Earth does my arm hurt? I’m healed by His stripes. He can make it stop instantaneously. (He, in fact, did this for me just the other day: I have poison ivy that was, well, you guessed it, itching. I prayed for it to stop. What happened? It stopped. Right then, right there, no waiting period.)
I get frustrated like it’s something I’m doing wrong. I crinkle my brow, open my Bible and get to work. I look for Scriptures that would help the situation. I look for that one missing piece that unlocks the rest of this crazy puzzle. I have an AHA! moment. Then the pain is back either in a few hours or the next day. I feel like crying, but can’t. People have it worse and all that, ya know? Then, the guilt comes. WHY would you pray about something as ridiculous as your joints when there are children who haven’t eaten in weeks? Elderly who can’t afford their medications…people with cardboard homes…Injustices running rampant throughout the world as we know it. Ugh…didn’t pray for that, now did I? I stink. I’m a horrible person. Why would God care about my elbow?
Then the tears come because it’s as if a light shines through that ugly dark hole of condemning and God speaks. Yes, He speaks. He speaks to me. If that’s the definition of crazy, then sign me up for the straight jacket (a multi-colored one, preferably) because the Creator of this universe talks to me. It’s not a voice that can be heard, although I’m waiting for that day too. There’s no explaining it. The Holy Spirit envelopes me in a warm hug, and suddenly, without warning, I’m dancing around like Olaf! God cares about me! He let me know this morning and then let me know I’m tired because I’m trying too hard. DOH! Be still, girl, be still. Rest easy, knowing that I’m God. All those thoughts that overwhelm you, pluck them from your mind, pull them down, and weigh them out. Would this come from Me? If I wouldn’t say that to you, toss it out. That’s not from Me and it’s certainly not for you.
When is the last time I was just still? When was the last time I just sat, breathing, knowing that my God is my God?