Engulfed in the darkness. Our house is quiet; and our home is still. Kathy's deep in slumber. Lucy's deep in rest. I'm deep in thought. Anxious. Envious. Restless. My body's tired; but my spirit's wired. Engulfed in the darkness. The reasons for my insomnia, as I've written before, vary from one night to the next. One night, Creativity might be in a mood for a midnight brainstorming session--blurting projects, insights, solutions--incessantly, impatiently, insisting that I transcribe her thoughts before they are forgotten. On another night, Intercession might remind me of a friend who is carrying a burden too heavy to bear alone, urging me to pray, to heal, to share. Still another night, Darkness might intrude into my room and sit unwelcome at the foot of my bed, sometimes murmuring its insults and threats, other times content to disturb with its brooding, silent presence of despair. But there are two reasons, two promises, that have afforded hope: a reason to lie down; and a reason to rise up. I can lie down in the evening, confident of this, "Don't worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today's trouble is enough for today (Matthew 6:34). Or... at the close of the day, enough is enough. I can rise up in the morning, assured of this, "The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning (Lamentations 3:22-23). Or... at the dawn of the day, there is new evidence of the Lord's mercy. Something to look back upon; something to look forward to: a reason to lie down; and a reason to rise up. |
