Hunger Unabated

Yes, it will -- not -- release me.

I spent last night refusing to go to bed when I was tired, because I was still looking for *something,* searching from this to that, tv, books, music.... I would not let my day end till I had found something I felt was worthwhile to make my own in my heart.

I said to self, "Just give it up!! Go to bed already. You have to teach in the morning; you already know you'll regret it."

And my mind replied full of rebellion, "Nope, I'm not gonna."

Stubborn, I was. My idealism won't let me go. Now I know the voice of "give it up," and I can't lower my standards. For some reason I can't give up the ideal, can't pretend the hunger isn't everything. Purpose gives meaning to sleep and everything else I do.

Looking back right now I realize that this has always been a problem that has stolen my arrival time in bed. All through my married life, way back to the beginning of my consciousness in college. I never slept correctly. I would always stay up even after an exciting, busy day, doing even the dumbest things, just because I could not would not let that be the end of the day. I hadn't found what I really wanted, and so there was no inner peace, just a subconscious torment. Subconsciously tormented, for example, as I flipped intently through the pages of a magazine at 2:20 AM.

What I had taken peace and security in during the day I always question as the night closes in, "Is that enough for you? Really?"

I have been reading lately about accounts of people converting to faith in Christ. One man had been plagued all his life by John 17:3 "And this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent." Frequently and fervently he prayed, "Jesus, I want to know you." A relationship with Christ eluded him. Then finally he prayed one day, ""My life is yours, Jesus" and asked to be born again.

It crossed my mind last night as I considered how to be free to go to bed, knowing that there was nothing I would settle for, that maybe I just wasn't going to find it myself. Maybe the cliche evangelistic message of man's "God-shaped hole that only can be met by God and God alone," was a prayer not only for the unacquainted with Jesus but also for the disciples. Maybe I just had to ask God, "Can you help this?" Maybe He was just going to have to give me something un-earthly, something of His, of perfection, in order to be met.

And so that is what I asked for.

Today in church we sang a song called "My Redeemer Lives." The pastor also said during his sermon, "We do not serve a dead God." I am tired of being dead. I want to be alive. I want to be where alive is. Not in all these dead things around me.

This automatically makes me feel the pressure to be perfect. Because if I think I'm close to Him then I ought to hold myself to a better standard. I'm tired of that too. So I'm not promising perfection. I'm just going to commit to being there, with Him. Staying with Him. That's all. "Practicing the Presence of God," as Brother Lawrence titled his book.