Last night I opened up the top drawer in my desk before going to bed, found an old headlamp and proceeded to use it as my nightlight while reading the Word in my bed.
Tears welded up in my eyes when I began and I could not seem to focus on the words.
All I could think about was being thousands of miles away from home, dirty and tired and aware of all my brokenness, in an old bunk bed surrounded by a mosquito net and lots of mosquitos with my headlamp on reading the Word.
It was a weird parallel, to say the least.
It reminded me of how differently we experience God when He is all that we have. As I laid there in my bed last night the Word wasn't as vibrant as it usually always is. I felt dull and my life felt mundane. When I was in Africa in that same circumstance, the Word felt the farthest thing from vibrant and my life felt the furthest thing from dull and mundane.
The Word holds such power and life, always. But it's interesting that when we need it the most it makes the most sense. It is brought alive and made so much more real the second we are defeated, broken, tired, hungry, heartbroken, suffering, when we feel alone or neglected or unworthy- the Word is so real in those moments.
I want to always need the Word. I want to rely on it and yearn for it and be fulfilled by the Word alone.
I want it to always be that way and I am frustrated the moments it isn't.
Lord, speak to me.
