God's gift to me
Jet lag. That horribly unnatural and uncomfortable feeling when you can't quite decide where you are. Need to sleep but can't. Here we are again.
It is, though, a thoroughly quiet time, this middle of the night when everything else slumbers. That's sometimes a blessing and sometimes not. I've decided tonight to accept it as the former. Time to think. To reorder my thoughts. To confess. To avow. To talk. To listen. And now, to write.
Lord, it's been one day back here. It's not easy picking up pieces of my life again. To want two things at once when I can only live one. To miss until it hurts. I only wish that that same feeling would come more quickly when it's you I'm missing but have yet to come to my senses to recognize it for what it is. Soul jet lag. Stuck in time when my being was made for eternity.
I have decided during this sleepless night that the Congo is God's gift to me. Say again? I will repeat it, not for your sake alone but for my own. Congo is God's gift to me. It's the place where the “too much” is taken away, where it finally becomes obvious to me that I can't do it, be it or make it on my own. You see when I live in and with “too much” I find myself becoming sluggish, busy, and most of all, distracted. But when “too much” is taken away, a certain clarity can filter into my mind and heart and bring calm, contentment. God can be the centre He was meant to be.
So though sleep evades me, though separations and goodbyes still tear at me, though restlessness lurks in the shadows, still my soul accepts this time and place as generous gifts of your unlikely love for me. And somehow, I love you back in the midst of the darkness, in the deep of the night, in the brokenness called Congo, in this brokenness called me.
It is, though, a thoroughly quiet time, this middle of the night when everything else slumbers. That's sometimes a blessing and sometimes not. I've decided tonight to accept it as the former. Time to think. To reorder my thoughts. To confess. To avow. To talk. To listen. And now, to write.
Lord, it's been one day back here. It's not easy picking up pieces of my life again. To want two things at once when I can only live one. To miss until it hurts. I only wish that that same feeling would come more quickly when it's you I'm missing but have yet to come to my senses to recognize it for what it is. Soul jet lag. Stuck in time when my being was made for eternity.
I have decided during this sleepless night that the Congo is God's gift to me. Say again? I will repeat it, not for your sake alone but for my own. Congo is God's gift to me. It's the place where the “too much” is taken away, where it finally becomes obvious to me that I can't do it, be it or make it on my own. You see when I live in and with “too much” I find myself becoming sluggish, busy, and most of all, distracted. But when “too much” is taken away, a certain clarity can filter into my mind and heart and bring calm, contentment. God can be the centre He was meant to be.
So though sleep evades me, though separations and goodbyes still tear at me, though restlessness lurks in the shadows, still my soul accepts this time and place as generous gifts of your unlikely love for me. And somehow, I love you back in the midst of the darkness, in the deep of the night, in the brokenness called Congo, in this brokenness called me.
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