Monday, 22 June 2015

My Morning (Psalm 30:5 & Psalm 34:5)

The rhythm of the rain outside my window is my alarm clock this morning.  In my stupor it sounds like clapping and I am oddly relieved.  The gray skies are clapping their sarcastic applause.  Perfect, I agree.  A miserable soggy day is in order for me, a failure.

It's the morning after the night that ended with silence, my mess uglier than I want to put into words.  Uglier than I want to put into words in front of him.  And he knows it.  He prods gently with such care but I shut him out.  It's too much and I'm too tired, I tell myself.  I'm fine, really, I tell him.  But how many times in ten years have I avoided his eyes?

And that night came on the heels of another, where I collapsed in a heap knowing I had just barely made it through another day.  A day of hearing my floundering in the sounds of every whining, complaining heap of child on the floor.  Of watching my defeat in hitting hands and kicking feet.  Of seeing my not-enough in the sounds of shutting down, shutting out, and shutting doors.   It's all I can do not to shut my eyes and shut my heart.

It's the morning after and the morning after the morning after.  And sometimes it doesn't look any better than the night before.  Or the night before.  Or the one before.

He says joy comes in the morning.  He whispers it this time.  Whispers it to my morning that is begging for a reason to rebel.  My morning that balks at Him, daring Him to defy Himself.

Except that it isn't.

At least not entirely.

Underneath its disheveled hair and disheartened spirits, my morning longs to taste and see that He is good and true and loving and here.  My morning, my afternoon, my evening, and my night.  All of me wants to know all of Him.

All of me wants to know this God who hears me when I cry.  Who is near when I am broken-hearted.  Who redeems me when I am desolate.  Who made my heart such that He can strengthen it.  Who makes me radiant when I am ashamed.

This God who is teaching me day by day and hour by hour that I am weak, fallible, and inadequate on purpose.  By His very design I am made to be whole only in Him.  By His very design I am made to experience fullness in my dependence on Him.

If my weakness is not only my weakness but also His strength, is it even my weakness at all?  How great is my God!

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