More and more the last few weeks I've been working hard and doing assignments and reading and studying, fretting about deadlines and schedules and making up time lost from work by going to school and making up lost study time by taking precious vacation time from work ... all to reach the culmination which happened tonight - nearly three hours of filling in black dots and writing short and long essays in words that are as alien and numbing to my personality as the dread long winter in Narnia before Aslan came to it.
I'm spent. I've used up all my resources. I'm all in.
Work, even the work that I like, has lost its appeal. Everything is gray. I've kept going by repeating to myself, "Eyes on the prize," but more and more, lately, my heart has not been in it.
Little things from all the different areas of my life: home, school, work, church, extended family, health concerns of those I love, and grief from what seems like a long string of deaths, tear at me. They erode my spirit, like those relentless droplets in the infamous Japanese water torture, hammer away at my heart and leave it hollow, washed out, fragmented, and useless.
I feel drained. Used up. Desperately I seek for strength, for joy, for life. I woder how to get my life, my peace back. And then it hits me.
He was spent for me. He used up all His resources ... for me. He went all in - so I could be all in Him. He drained His life's blood for me. He was used up and spilled out ... for me.
And in that realization of His love so strong that He would rather die than live without me, in this good news in and of itself, there is strength. There is joy. There is life.
The thrill that He loves me that much bubbles up inside like the sound of water gurgling under the ice in the winter - distant, yet there and growing stronger, fighting against the punishing, restraining, frozen deadness. It soothes, embraces, restores my soul.
It breathes life into me. I can live again.
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| Photo "Snowy Morning" courtesy of Evgeni Deniv at www.freedigitalphotos.net |
Work, even the work that I like, has lost its appeal. Everything is gray. I've kept going by repeating to myself, "Eyes on the prize," but more and more, lately, my heart has not been in it.
Little things from all the different areas of my life: home, school, work, church, extended family, health concerns of those I love, and grief from what seems like a long string of deaths, tear at me. They erode my spirit, like those relentless droplets in the infamous Japanese water torture, hammer away at my heart and leave it hollow, washed out, fragmented, and useless.
I feel drained. Used up. Desperately I seek for strength, for joy, for life. I woder how to get my life, my peace back. And then it hits me.
He was spent for me. He used up all His resources ... for me. He went all in - so I could be all in Him. He drained His life's blood for me. He was used up and spilled out ... for me.
And in that realization of His love so strong that He would rather die than live without me, in this good news in and of itself, there is strength. There is joy. There is life.
The thrill that He loves me that much bubbles up inside like the sound of water gurgling under the ice in the winter - distant, yet there and growing stronger, fighting against the punishing, restraining, frozen deadness. It soothes, embraces, restores my soul.
It breathes life into me. I can live again.
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