I am so tired. Bone tired. Soul empty tired. And I do not feel like reading His words tonight because my weariness feels larger than my will. I brush my teeth but skip washing my face and I notice the mascara has already smudged below my eyelashes making my 37 years look older and sallower. I run my fingers through my hair giving it the closet thing it’s going to get to a brush now and stumble to my t-shirt drawer grabbing the softest one my fingertips can touch. And I sigh deeply as I see that blue bible on my side of the bed stacked on top of notes and I think, “Lord, I am just too tired. I can’t do this with you today. I don’t have any words. My head is hurting and my body has taken its beating for the day. The good is gone already, and you missed it.”
And in my heart he whispers, “Open it, read it. I’m there. Settle into me.”
So I do.
I open Psalms from the beginning like I’ve never read it before and his words spill over me and I get chills underneath my electric blanket that’s turned up to level eight in July. And here after my ten hour work shift, after prepping dinner for Tuesday, and cleaning counter tops and checking homework, here in these last minute moments he reminds me:
…the Lord watches over the righteous (1:6)
…blessed are all who take refuge in Him (2:12)
I call out to the Lord and he answers me from his holy mountain. I lie down to sleep; I wake again because the Lord sustains me. (3:4,5)
…from the Lord comes deliverance (3:8)
…in peace I will lie down and sleep for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety (4:8)
…have mercy on me Lord, for I am faint; heal me, Lord for my bones are in agony. My soul is in deep anguish. How long, Lord, how long? (6:2)
I am worn out from my groaning. (6:6)
My sovereign is God most high, who saves the upright in heart. (7:10)
The Lord is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. Those who know your name trust in you, for you Lord, have never forsaken those who seek you. (9:9)
And ten Psalms later I’m still tired but I’m at the feet of God, my Father, and he tends my wounds with reminders of His ancient history of faithfulness and peace. He carves out the refuge I need by bending low to cover me with His grace. His forgiveness flows over me soothing the shame of the sin in my everyday life. In these last moments of my day I realize that I never need words when I’m with Him. I don’t show up to show God what I am capable of, as if the flower can make itself bloom when God does the planting and growing. I’m good to show up weary and empty with nothing useful in my hands because that’s the way I entered this world, a being with no way to care for itself and only the image of the Maker to brag about.
So I can imagine tomorrow now when thirty minutes ago I couldn’t. I can breathe into the next moment facing me, the next shift that needs working, and the next choice that needs making without so great a fear. He reminds me that being tired is not fatal and rest in Him is never flawed.
As I lay that bible back on the stack of notes and click off the light I whisper my prayers for the night. And the God who loves me tucks the ragged edges of my life back into place as I sink deeper into Him with each passing breath that pulls me into sleep.