O God, you are my God,
earnestly I seek you
my soul thirsts for you,
my body longs for you,
in a dry and weary land
where there is no water. Psalm 63:1
I’ve noticed as I drove this morning that you can tell the morning people from the people who are driving out on the road completely against all will and sanity (them not being morning people). I was pulling into QT this morning and some person was pulling out and driving like a drunk (hopefully they weren’t). I think non-morning people should have designated drivers if they need to be out on the road early (myself included). Somewhere around Beaver Ruin Rd I began thinking of the fallen nature of 6:30 am (I remind you: I’m not a morning person and anything before 8am is called “Fallen”). Maybe it was just my humanity that was talking…but in the mad rush of traffic and cars bumper to bumper, an ache emerged that was more than my flesh. I know it was more than my flesh because after I partook of Chick-fil-a it was still there. And as I settled down into preparing for our (every-other-Wednesday) Escatology group, I just mumbled a half-fleshed/full-hearted prayer. “Come Lord Jesus.” I just want Jesus. Through the morning sun slicing through the traffic lights of a city awakening and an already traffic jammed I-85, in the dry and parched land this thirsty mountain boy is crying out for the only satisfaction that can truely satisfy and plant a fearless joy, deeper than the ocean floor, in my heart.
Come, Lord Jesus.