It Is Work To Find Rest

I wake indifferent. 

There is danger in apathy. 

I wage a war continually. 

If I don’t feel then I can’t hurt. 

If I close my eyes tightly against all the pain and struggle I will survive. 

That is hardly living. 

There is relief. 

There is an anecdote. 

There is a place where peace reigns. 

Where our feet are firmly planted.

To remain in that place is work.
There is work in grieving.
There is work in surrendering a life to the One who longs to hold you.
This work can leave you exhausted and spent.
But we will work.
We will work to grieve; to yield continually to the spirit.
We will work to dig out the farmer from depression.
We will work to keep this farm.
We will work until the Kingdom comes.
And through it all we will demonstrate a life placed at the feet of Jesus.
Because this life is too hard.
I want Him to have it all.
We will fill our heartache and pain with grace.
And from that grace will flow an abundance of peace.
The peace leads to rest; to the quiet and still.
My practice in Lent.
Still enough to see.
Still enough to listen.