There is something so incredibly human and so wondrously raw about lying awake at night. About being heavy, about worrying. I can’t decide if it makes my heart light to know I’m not alone, or heavy because the thought of others so burdened is heartbreaking. We think and we analyze and we panic so thoroughly that even sleep can’t always give pause to our rampant minds. This is exhausting. This is weariness. This has been my week.
And all I can say is, when you’re awake at two in the morning, with tears in your tired eyes and heaviness in your heart, remember to whom you belong.
You belong to the One who was and is and will be. You belong to the creator and master. To Love itself. You belong to peace and grace and joy incarnate. You have been seen. In a world of chaos, in a world of mass communication and sounds and messes of people, you have been seen. You have been picked out and adored. You have been known fully, for better or for worse. And yet you have still been loved. Your darkness hasn’t scared away your Father. Your shortcomings haven’t elicited God to throw up His holy hands and be done with you. As you are lying there, staring at the ceiling fan and wondering if you have made the right choices, remember. I have drowned myself in second guessing and what ifs. I have imagined the paths I did not take, with outcomes far more lovely than my current lot. I am the queen of wondering and worrying, but I am surrendering my crown and remembering.
Remembering that God’s timing isn’t ours: it’s deliberate and wise and right. And sometimes it seems slow, but He says to wait for it: It hastens to the end—it will not lie. If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay. His movements, His stirrings, are intentional. Every gift He’s given me, every freckle on my face is intentional. Because our God isn’t distant. Even at two in the morning. Especially at two in the morning. Like Joel and Clementine lying side by side on the frozen Charles, staring at the night sky, our God lies next to us and after every time we mutter, “Lord I can’t handle any of this”, He softly answers, “I can“.
Remember that no matter the number of things that are unclear, no matter how many doors you are waiting on, no matter how many things feel “paused” or in limbo, there is never down time for Christians. We are never useless. We are never sitting on the sidelines. I wasn’t picked for a single sports team in high school (for wildly good reasons), but God hasn’t benched me once. There are still people to love. There are still songs to write to God. You have things to do. You have many things to do. I do too. We need to be love to our roommates, you need to encourage your spouse, you need to tell your children about Jesus. These are the things that count. These are the things that are gold. You, my friend, are astonishing and wondrous, but you are not big enough to ruin God’s plans. Be still. Put those heavy things down and remember. Remember you aren’t of this earthy kingdom. It’s regulations and measuring sticks and ways of distributing worth do not apply to you. It’s apples and oranges: our jobs and salaries and instagram feeds mean nothing in the kingdom to which we belong.
Praise God that my Heavenly Father is awake every night with me. As my heart is tempted to collapse under the weight of worry and wonder, He holds it with a strength unattainable by man and a love that no romantic could imagine.