I need your peace tonight, God. I feel restless and listless. I need you to accompany me, to encamp around me. To hide me in the shadow of your wings. I need you to whisper to me, anything really, just something to let me know you’re with me tonight. Can you do that?
I need you. I don’t need something from you, I need you. I want you. I want every bit of you to come sit with me here, to be with me now.
There are days when I just tire of faith. I feel thin, threadbare and weary of living this way, living with the eyes of my heart. I want to see you. I want to touch you. I want to hear you. “He’s just a prayer away.” “He’s as close as your next breath.” These little notions feel like lotions to soothe me, potions to enchant me with some spell for the time being until I get over my confession of confusion, my dabbling with doubt. I don’t need notions, lotions, or potions right now, Lord. I need your Wind to blow through me once again.
I don’t need much of it, but I do need a little. Life gets long and laborious without your wind blowing the turbines of my heart. Can you hear me? I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re with me? I don’t want to get used to doing ministry without you. Do you know how easy that is to pull off? Frighteningly easy. Terrifyingly easy. I know, I’ve done it before without the slightest negative outward consequence. But the inside is full of dead man’s bones, I tell you. So I don’t mean to ever return to that contradictory place if I can help it. The problem is this…I don’t know if I can help it aside from your grace. This is why I cry out tonight. Will you come to my aide?
No one knows a man, but the spirit of the man within him…this is what the Scriptures say. It’s true. I know myself all too well. I now my tendencies, my affinities. I’m well aware of my triggers and my defaults. I know when my heart is vulnerable and my decisions volatile. This is one of those times. I don’t want to float down the river of resignation. I don’t want to pop into neutral. I don’t want to be neutered. I don’t want to flirt with secret sin. I don’t want to play Russian roulette with Lucifer. He’s blown my head off too many times before.
It’s Saturday night. Tomorrow’s Sunday. I need the energy of God to fill my feckless frame. My restless heart. Will you come, Lord? Will you meet me here tonight? Will you stand afar? I can’t afford that response tonight.
The hour is desperate.