Another disciple said to him, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” But Jesus told him, “Follow me, and let the dead bury their own dead.”
-Matthew 8:21-22
Being in grad school can be pretty demanding, as can any number of things we engage in with our lives — marriage and kids, ministry, jobs, a crisis here or there, sickness, and a million other things. The demands of life simply take their toll.
I’ve had some unexpected openings with my time recently. I’m still in school, but my schedule has shifted a bit and freed me up a little bit through the day, creating some breathing room I haven’t had in quite awhile. Not much, but enough that I’ve had time to slow down a bit. There’s that, and there’s the space I’m beginning to make for my heart again, time to reconnect with the deeper places in me, and time to reconnect with God.
The trouble is, I’m so used to the whirlwind of busyness that when I try to slow down or when I have some down time, I can’t seem to sit still. When I try to quiet my mind and heart, to try to listen to the voice of the Lord speaking to me, all I too often seem to get is the rising anxiety about what I should be doing, or the worry about tomorrow’s activities, or the unsettled restlessness of things in my life. Me, me, me. Though I’m involved in a lot of beautiful things that are bigger than me, when I slow down the vertigo-of-soul seems to indicate that in too many ways I’ve become the center of my own story. I’ve become stuck in an orbit around myself.
I decided today that the only recourse I have is… well, is to realize I have no recourse. I have no internal resources that can save me from this vortex of ontological lightness, as theologians call it. If I am to follow Jesus again deeply, it must begin with Him coming into and speaking into this tornadic mess inside my heart. Otherwise, I’m unsure where to go with my attention and energy. My mind only comes up with a few different places I could go — mostly either dead-end roads of boredom, distraction, or worry, as I’ve mentioned, or worse — dark corners and alleys that have crept into my heart as I’ve shied away from the Light of Life.
So, with no internal resources to rely on, I’m dropping it all and running to Jesus. And this is what I pray:
Please meet me here, Lord God. Spirit of the Living, God, I remember that You want to commune with me even more — far more — than I want to with You. I don’t want distraction. I don’t want the distance of worry and inattention. I don’t want comfort. And I must not wait to bury my father, to wait until all is fixed and well before taking off again with You into the deep. I don’t want th eless wild offers of this world or of the Father of Lies. I want You. Jesus, I want you. Everything else is dung compared with that — for you are the Pearl of Great Price. I hunger for You. My soul thirsts for the Living God.
Where may He be found? Who can ascend His hill? Praise be to my God, who has given us clean hands and pure hearts, that we might walk with the Living God, learn of His ways, be trained as master horseman with his steeds, be loved as a bride on the bed. We are Yours, O Lover, we are Yours, for you have first loved us. Jesus, you are our King and Suitor. And I am your man.
