I will refresh the weary and satisfy the faint. Jer. 31:25 (NIV)
Dear heavenly Father, like a puppy clamoring for morning milk, I’m ready (and grateful) for you to make good on this promise. I’m not close to fainting, but I won’t deny my weariness. The combination of the heat, my normally busy schedule, a couple of unexpected providences and unplanned for “curve balls” have me feeling like I’m pregnant with a bad attitude that’s ready to be birthed, and it’s a big baby. I’m so thankful that I don’t have to pretend around you—suck it up and get over it. You meet us in our weariness to refresh us as a loving Father, not to reprimand us as a grouchy coach. You meet us with the gospel, not with a scorecard; with grace, not with the law; with a towel to wash our feet, not with a cattle prod, to get us going. Thank you.
I’m also a bit weary from grieving the pain friends are carrying. Relationships are so complex, Father. No one knows that better than you. How I long for the Day when all brokenness will give way to the perfect blessedness of loving well in the new heaven and new earth. That Day cannot come a day too soon.
Indeed, I SO look forward to an eternity of no more pettiness or self-pity; no more hard-heartedness or hair-trigger sensitivity; no more communicating in part or conflicting to win; no more passive aggressiveness or active indifference; no more innuendo or bravado or anything else that hides the beauty of Jesus.
Speaking of which, Lord Jesus, I’m SO grateful you still cry out to us in the gospel, with a loud voice: “Anyone who is thirsty may come to me! Anyone who believes in me may come and drink! For the Scriptures declare, ‘Rivers of living water will flow from his heart'” (John 7:37-38). I hear your beckoning, welcoming, gladding cry, and by faith I come running to you. Fill me to overflowing with the water you alone can give, Jesus. Slake this relentless thirst of mine. So very Amen I pray, in your kind and generous name.