Last night I lay awake for too long, tossing my sheets into a crumpled mess at my feet and wishing desperately to fall into sleep, into the tired weary exhale of the night. But suddenly the thought hit me that all of this is God, all of this restlessness and weariness is my soul yearning me back into His arms. He makes us restless for His rest, restless til we flop weary bones and bodies into his waiting arms. Until the Rembrandt van Rijn painting of the prodigal son is gloriously transformed into a picture of you and me and God and this world in Him, the love and tenderness in between brush strokes suddenly blazing out like fireflies blinking and shafts of sun through a cool Chartres cathedral and the waters of Baptism blessing helping us breathe.
I love God, I told my dear friend over coffee mugs and cinnamon French toast. I love Him terribly and deeply and with a ferocious kind of certainty that makes me mad sometimes because I think, I can’t not love You and be restless for You and squirm and fuss and gasp for air to breathe You into me. I want the bread from heaven, the manna… and I know lying in bed that I do not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from You and I breathe because You give me breath and I am peaceful because Peace is Your gift and I am tied to You, God. I love you terribly. And I want to breathe that kind of desperate love for Him all over this day and the lilacs that bloom and the restless beating heart and the broken relationships and the scattered thoughts and I want to stand in the middle of my life holding up the mess and saying, “I love you. I sing because You are my God.”