Do you ever feel worn out for no good reason?   I don’t mean that normal, bone-weary Mommy tired.  Although I get that.  I’m pretty sure I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since 1999.

And all the mommies said, “AMEN!”

But no, what I mean in this case is do you ever feel just utterly emotionally overdrawn?  Careworn.

It’s a product of living in the world and being deeply affected by it. Of loving and being loved.  Risky behavior, that.  It’s a product of having our hearts walk around outside our bodies as we send our children out to school each day.  It’s a product of weeping with a friend as she tells you of her great loss.  It’s a product of watching a loved one on a path to certain destruction and knowing they won’t hear you when you try and stand in the middle of the road hoping to turn them to the right or the left.

It’s a product of caring.  Of being alive.

And sometimes it’s just too much.  It hurts.

But.

“Live carefree before God; He is most careful with you.”  1 Peter 5:7–MSG

I love that our Savior knew we’d be worn down and worn out and utterly frazzled by life.  And seriously, it’s probably good for us that this is the case.  Otherwise we’d be tempted to think we could go it alone.  But no.  We can’t.

We get it wrong.  We overestimate our abilities and we try way too hard to carry loads that aren’t ours to bear in the first place.

But here’s the thing.  Jesus said “live carefree before Me.”  Jesus SAID.  Now hear me, that doesn’t mean drink all the wine, max out your credit card and run away to the Bahamas.  No.

But it does mean you can drop all those cares, one by one at the foot of the cross.  And you should.

Because they’ll kill you, sweet sister.  You will be crushed.

Lay them at the foot of the cross.  Lay every burden down.  And trust that the God of the Ages will brush them away like so much dust, and breathe new life into your empty soul.

Why?

Because He is most careful with you.

This post is written in conjunction with the #Write31days Challenge and linked up with Kate Motaung’s Five Minute Friday crew here and Nester Smith’s friends here.

Four days in the tomb.  It was on that fourth day that Jesus arrived.  Mary was heartbroken.  Weeping.  Grieving over the loss of her brother.  Martha heard that Jesus was near and went to meet Him.

No nonsense Martha.  But her heart was heavy too.  They talked.  Martha, hinting that she was confident that God would give Jesus *whatever* He asked.  Asking for the most miraculous of all miracles, perhaps?  Jesus, knowing the very outcome of these moments in time.  Yet fully present.

And He was moved by what He saw.

As Mary came to him, as Jesus looked upon her tear-stained face, as He saw the grief of those surrounding her, He felt their pain, palpable.  He knew it.  God in human flesh.  Fully God, yet fully man, and not without compassion.  Mary threw herself at His feet, completely done in by the sight of Him.  By the vastness of her loss.  And after hoping and praying and wishing that Jesus would come, empty when He did not.

Jesus asked very simply, “Where have you laid him?”  And with equal simplicity, Mary answers, “Come and see.”

“Come and see.”

In my mind’s eye, I see Mary reaching out as she utters these words.  She offers her hand to Him.  And I see Him taking it.  (And yes, I’m sure this is wildly inaccurate in regards to the culture of the day, but please, gentle reader, bear with me…)

Mary reaching out because she knew Jesus had exactly what she needed, drawing strength from Him, pressing into His sovereignty.

They went. And Jesus wept.  For a moment, it seems like His humanness was larger than life.  He was exposed.

How often, I wonder, does Jesus weep over me?  When I finally turn to Him.  When I finally get to the end of myself.  When I hold out my hands and say, “Come and see…”

Come and see, Jesus.  Come and see the broken and dead things in my life.  Come and see the mess I have made.  If you were here, perhaps I wouldn’t be in this mess.  Probably I would have done better.  Been more.  Worked harder.  Gone farther.  But come and see, Jesus.  Come and see.

But no.  I wouldn’t have done better.  Because I can’t.  And He was there all along.  Not limited by what I see or feel or think or do.

Come to me, I invite.  Hands open wide.  Surrendered.  Reaching out.

I reach.  And He comes.  And He weeps.  Not because of the mess I’ve made.  But in spite of it.

He sees the big picture.  He was already at Calvary for my mess and brokenness and certain death.  He has already fought that battle.  But He weeps for me all the same.

Why?

Because He loves me.

It’s as simple as that.

And He reminds me of this:

“I am the resurrection and the life.  He who believes in me will live, even though he dies and whoever lives and believes in me will never die…”  John 11:25-26

Jesus weeps as I stand in the middle of my brokenness.  But he reaches right back to me, refusing to let me there.  By rights, that’s where I belong.  Still, He draws me close and hides me in the shadow of His wings.  And in the middle of His grace and love and utter security, He reminds me to sing again.  To find rest.

And truly, in the shadow of His wings, I sing again.

One of the things I believe can haunt any self-respecting Jesus girl is the desire to be in the center of God’s will.  It’s what we long for.  We love Him and we want to serve Him.  We want to go where He leads us.  And we want to run the race well for Him.

But. How do we know?  How do we know what His will is?  What if we miss it?  What if we think we know what it is, but we really don’t?  What if we make a wrong decision?  Does that negate His plan for our lives?

And as these thoughts swirl around in our heads we get stuck.  We don’t move.  At all.  Paralyzed.

I don’t know about you, but it seems to me, stuck is exactly where the enemy wants us to be, doesn’t it?  

If I’m stuck, I’m not doing anything for the kingdom.  And that suits the enemy just fine.  He doesn’t need me to be robbing banks or instigating high speed chases.  Nope.  No need.  Just keep me bound up and second guessing everything in my life and I’m rendered ineffective. No threat to him whatsoever.

Here’s the thing….every decision we are presented with, every choice we make, well, they will have good and bad things that come along as part of the package.  We can make the most God-ordained choice in the world but that doesn’t mean the road is going to be easy.

Did you hear that?  Even when we do what God would have us do, it won’t always be sunshine and roses 100% of the time.

So how to know His will, to hear His call on our lives?  Get in the Word.  Know Him.  Spend time with him.  And then go.  Just go.  Step out in faith.  As I heard Lysa TerKuerst say this week, “The only way our faith will ever strengthen is to use it.”

That’s is, isn’t it?  Use your faith and it will grow. Spend time with God and then trust that He’s breathing wisdom into your life.  Because He tells us that’s exactly what He’ll do.  And then go.  Move.  Do something.

So go.  And quit making everything harder than it has to be.  God’s got you.  Trust always in that.

This post is written in conjunction with the #Write31days Challenge and linked up with Kate Motaung’s Five Minute Friday crew here and Nester Smith’s friends here.

My feet hit the ground and I’m off.  Running.  My head is full of chaos.  Going in too many direcitons at once.

Pack the lunches.  Sign the papers you should have signed last night.  Write the checks.  Make sure the big girl ate something.  Wake up the little girl.  Wake up the little girl again.  Wake up the little girl yet again.  Endure her wrath.  Send hubby out the door.  Send the big girl out the door.  Check the calendar.  Make the grocery list.  Step over cat-hair tumbleweeds rolling across the kitchen floor.  Make  mental note to sweep floor after I get back from the bus stop.

My life moves at the speed of rush and my mind is always spinning.  Always turning.  Trying to keep up.  Desperately wishing I could get ahead.  Always moving.  Until my heart is heavy.  And I remember.

You can’t hear that still small voice if you never take time to listen for it.  And goodness knows God is crying out to me.  Reminding me that He’s there.  Closer than a breath.  If I’d just pause.  If I’d be still.  If I’d listen for his voice.

“Be still and know that I am God.”  Psalm 46:10

That’s what he wants me to know.  And I can only really embrace His blessing, hear His voice if I stop.  If I quiet my mind and heart.  If I listen.  Just as I ask my daughters to do when I’m talking and they are busy.  “Listen to me.  Put your eyes on my face.”

That’s what I need to do too.  Listen.  And put my eyes on His face.

Lesson learned.

This post is written in conjunction with the #Write31days Challenge and linked up with Kate Motaung’s Five Minute Friday crew here and Nester Smith’s friends here.