O God, save me by your name, and vindicate me by your might” (Psalm 54:1).
Let’s keep this simple. There is a pace, a rhythm to how I work in you. I know you want to rush it, to feel fully free. I place that longing within you to search for Me, a longing that cannot be replaced but can be filled with other things, other commitments.
Oh, daughter, what does it look like to be committed to Me?
Let Me tell you.
There is waiting. A lot of waiting. At least that is what it feels like.
It feels like I am stalling, that I am busy doing other things and can’t attend to you or I am pushing you to wrestle with Me into discomfort.
Wrestling, by its nature, is uncomfortable.
But let Me tell you more about wrestling. It is full body contact. It is arms wrapped around. It is holding on tight and tumbling and maintaining a firm grasp on your opponent.
I am willing to wrestle with you. I am willing to stay here, in the arena, with you. I am willing to be with you, reassuring you I am here.
The waiting isn’t stagnation when you are wrestling with Me. I would rather you wrestle with Me, want to push back against Me, in frustration or anger or fear, than turn your back and not engage all together.
Daughter, I want to engage. I love for you to tell Me what you think, how you are mad or hurt or frustrated or scared. I want to hear you cry out, see you reach for Me, look around, seeking to find Me so you can grab hold of Me—right here—and head into the arena where we can have it out.
I want to have all of you. You are not too much. You are not too much for Me to handle. And I am strong enough to hold you while you cling to Me, not sure if you want to hang on or let go.
Keep hanging on, girl.
No matter what, I am holding you the whole time.
|| More Resources For You ||
Hiding from our emotions feels natural at first. We don’t want to feel the pain, so we bury ourselves in some other distraction. But eventually, that pain builds and builds until it becomes something bigger—and once those distractions are stripped away, we can no longer avoid what we’ve been running from. That’s what John Mark Comer discovered when he spent 21 days by himself in a cabin. This experience was designed to replicate Jesus’ time in the desert. No books. No technology. No social media. No work. His only interpersonal interactions were with a wizened therapist at 5:50 every morning. “The desert teaches by taking away,” John writes. “[It] teaches by subtraction, by stripping things away until the soul is naked before its Maker.” → Read about John’s experience in this excerpt from his new book, Into the Quiet.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths” (Proverbs 3:5-6, ESV). → I love this passage. When I’m struggling to find hope and joy, it reminds me where to settle my heart each day. And trust me, I’ve needed that reminder many times. That’s why I put together a 3-day Loop devotional: “Come to Me, Right Where You Are.” It’s completely free to download and share with others. May His words meet you here, today.
If you’re still feeling weary and burdened, dear reader, here is another resource for you: “When Self-Care Leaves You Empty,” a Proverbs 31 article by Dr. Alison Cook. “You don’t have to take care of yourself by yourself,” she writes. “The One who made your soul is still saying, Come to Me.” Yes, and amen.
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