For the tired days
Sit in silence.
I read the words and see new depths of His greatness. He is the same. Yesterday. Today. Forever.
Can we ever really understand it? Can we ever really know the weight of glory and experience the brilliance of his presence?
Because this day-to-day? The working and tending and planning and fixing, it is the temporary reality. That which seems so real and palpable is light and momentary. This time, this struggle, this fear, this present joy does not compare with who He is.
The things we see? They are transient. But oh, the things that are unseen, they will remain long after time stands still.
This beauty, this glory, this majestic knowing has been replaced by picket signs, slogans, decals and bumper stickers. It has been tamed, taught, bulleted and marginalized until it is manageable. The most radiant experience in the universe has been dulled into just another option from a buffet of moral, lifestyle, and cultural choices — all equally filling.
Fresh and living water is available for the asking, yet I dig a broken cistern into the catchbasin of humanity hoping the slop will satisfy.
We convince ourselves it is good. Meanwhile we rot and stink and rush and hurry believing that we have become too dignified to simply ask for cool, clear, living water.
Yet he stands. He waits. He speaks, “Come.”
Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. — Jesus