The house is robed in darkness when I slip away from the warmth of my bed and my slumbering husband. I’d rather brew a cup of tea and pray than toss and turn.
I weave my way through the dark and around the furniture until I find the kitchen light. While tea leaves steep, I notice my hungry cat waiting at the back door.
Open a can of food for her, open the Bible for me.
I’m not a morning person, but I love the silence where God is able to speak without interruptions.
If only I can keep my mind from distractions. My year that began slow has picked up speed. The winds are changing.
I tell myself “rejoice in the Lord” because my joy is not based on What is happening in my life, but WHO is ever present.
El Roi, the God who sees me, even in the dark while I sip tea.
How odd…or is it…that I open my Bible to Psalm 143 where my words were once scrawled in the margin: February 2001: anxiety attack and winter depression.
What happened long ago that caused me to underline emotions that King David experienced: “persecuted, crushed, overwhelmed.”
I can’t remember why those emotions held me hostage, but the solution remains underlined.
“I meditate on all Thy doings; I muse on the work of Thy hands. I stretch out my hands to Thee; my soul longs for Thee as a parched land.” (verses 5,6)
On that winter morning, I lived in dark places. (vs.3)
But I knew then…as I know now…the ONE True God who could and would …
· Revive me.
· Teach me.
· Deliver me.
And bring my soul out of trouble.
Even now, as I write these words, night has slipped away. Daylight is here. And on my window sill, a cross with the words from Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans I have for you…to give you hope and a future.”
If anxious thoughts woke me, they are gone. Not because my circumstances changed, or God fixed my problems overnight.
My soul is at rest because the Lord is my hope and refuge.
And He never changes…not even in this.
Even In This 