Weary. That word is probably a good summation of this past week. I don’t know where it came from, but something happened somewhere on Thursday afternoon to just lay me and Carla out. It probably wasn’t any one, big thing, but a collection of multiple, smaller things. Regardless, quite out of the blue, we felt spiritually bankrupt. We were so discouraged, depressed and exhausted. That feeling lasted into Saturday morning when we finally asked for help.I guess until then we thought it was just a case of “the Mondays” or something. Anyway, on Saturday morning we sent out a few emails asking for prayer from people we knew would literally stop what they were doing and pray for us immediately. They did. And guess what. Saturday improved. We woke up Sunday not to perfect circumstances—in fact it was bumpy like most Sundays are—but we felt renewed strength and hope. Our service ended up being a powerful, unifying experience. We took a great step toward becoming a church planting team instead of a small church.
Anyway, back to that word: weary. (Often we get so excited about the good outcome that we forget all the pain it took to get there. Let’s not forget the journey.) I left the house Thursday afternoon to get a haircut and spend a little time in prayer. While praying, my mind wandered to a scene I recently saw in a dramatic retelling of the American Revolution. In it, George Washington is telling John Adams that he’s weary of the burden of being the President, another possible war, etc. Well, I could identify. I told the Lord that I was absolutely weary of our position and responsibilities. Immediately, the Holy Spirit responded, “Don’t be weary in well-doing.”
I didn’t want to hear that. In fact, I said so…out loud. I told God I knew that was true and Biblically correct, but still didn’t want to hear it. A weary person doesn’t want to hear “stop being weary.” That just makes the weariness even more wearisome. I wanted some kind of miracle. I wanted a lightening bolt. I wanted… anything but more words. Yet, somehow, that word was enough. Barely, but it was.
When I got home I looked that passage up, wrote it on a sticky note and put it on the fridge where everything important goes. Then Carla forwarded me an email from one of our praying friends. The Lord spoke the same verse to her about us. Then another said the same thing. Then a movie preview, believe it or not! I have no doubt that word was from God. That knowledge doesn’t necessarily make it all better, but it helps.
Of particular significance to me is the organic imagery at the end. “At the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” It’s okay to be weary. It’s not okay to give up. I don’t know the proper time. I never have. I’ve driven myself crazy to figure it out and worked myself silly trying to make it come prematurely. He knows, though. He knows the proper time and is slowly and patiently bringing it into our reality.
If I were to chart our lives for the past two years, I think we moved here on a pretty big high. Slowly and consistently, though, we wilted. I think we declined for a whole year, pretending everything was cool and good and right. Finally, after a year of suffering and pain, we admitted our brokenness and recognized our struggle against God Himself. At that point we flattened out and walked with God, on rock bottom, for about another year. Well over the past month or so, I think we’ve been making very slow progress back up. We are ascending out of the valley, the desert, the wilderness—whatever you want to call it. But it’s as slow coming back up as it was going down. Maybe slower! But we are making progress little by little. I see that. And I’m trying very hard to not be weary. Well, that’s not really accurate. I’m trying very hard to not get too weary…so weary that I give up. That would be the real tragedy. To come all this way, to sacrifice all this, to endure so much…all for nothing.
I believe the harvest is coming. And I believe it will be worth the weariness. We will not give up, Lord! One more day, Jesus! Here we go!
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