Sweet Sorrow

What do you call the point just beyond exhaustion?  The kind of weariness that seeps into your bones, darkens and sags the skin under your eyes, and stifles your creativity (not to mention your ability to reason or logic), all the while swirling your thoughts and intercepting your sleep?

Whatever it's called, I'm there.

I've been there for awhile now, but each progressive night my head attempts to hit my pillow only to be met by my brain's mockery at rest, it gets a little bit heavier.

I'm weary.

Is it just me or has this broken world felt just a little bit more broken lately?

The past seven days have been marked by shootings, sex abuse, strokes, stage four cancer, and so many silent tears of sadness.  By men, women, and children (oh Lord, the children!) crying out to a God they want so desperately to believe is there, but can't seem to see, hear, or touch.

God I want to feel You.  

And yet, even on these nights where my heart aches for reassurance that You haven't forgotten Your promises or Your people, I know You are still good.  I know Your heart aches on a level I will never comprehend; a level I will never have to understand because of Your tremendous sacrifice.

And even more than the depths of Your empathy, I believe in the power of Your redemption.

I know not a single tear escapes Your notice.

So I lay here in surrender, trusting that You are so much bigger than all of this, and that nothing - not one single thing - is beyond the miracle of Your grace.

Jesus, come quickly.  We are so desperate for You.