The open bible for devotion

Devotion – May 2020

Read Psalm 139:6–12

Journal Entry  12 November 2019

Jesus, how much longer am I going to feel tepid and unmoved? It makes me shameful when I can’t muster the motivation to wriggle close to you, to lay my head in your lap and sob to You. I’m fearful of the hard heart-work of pruning and probing and growth that will no doubt take place when I finally crawl begrudgingly toward You. I just need a break from the challenges and the growth-spurts. Just a minute to catch my breath. I’m sore. I’m tired. Let me do nothing. Not forever, but for a moment. I need to rest.

But Father I’ve run to a dark place  in the back of a deep wardrobe where I’m hidden, I rock myself back and forward. Surely, I’ll be safe here. Surely, I can rest here. No one will come looking, no one will ask of me. This is what I want.

Oh, but Father! This is not what I wanted! Here in this place, I am completely alone with my cruellest thoughts. I waste away without nourishment and sunlight. I feel like I’ve been awake for months; this is not rest. The darkness I yearned for is no longer safe, but scary. I feel unseen and forgotten.

With my croaky voice, hoarse from underuse – I whisper for help.

The wardrobe doors swing wide! Light spills in from every direction! I see now that this place was in fact very small. Strong hands find me and gently pull me towards the light—no! Not the light Lord, I’m not ready! I squeeze my eyes closed.

When I open them again, I’m in a warm, bright place. The harsh, brilliant light is dimmed. I realise I’m in an embrace, hidden in the crook of my Father’s neck. I feel his heartbeat, hear his voice echo and bounce against my cheek. He strokes my hair and sings over me. I am held. I am safe. I am resting. This is what I want.

“Stay for as long as you need, little one,” he whispers kindly.

Here  in the place I avoided and ran from there is no great work to be done, no to-do list, no fear and no expectation. Here I am deeply rested. He nurses me with love-songs and promises. His heartbeat is stuck in my head now.

Soon, there will come a day when I re-join those in the dazzling, brilliant light  I can feel them dance and move around me even as I nuzzle closer to my Father – but I feel no urgency. I hear him say the words he told me years ago: “It’s okay just to seek my Father heart. It’s the most important thing.”

Prayer: Father, you are patient with my humanity. Thankyou. You care deeply about the state of my heart. Thankyou. There is nowhere I can go that your love will not find. Remind me of what is important Lord. Only you. Always only you. You are not a slavedriver. You are compassion personified. I’m done hiding, I don’t want to rest away from you, I don’t need to avoid you. You don’t want my work. You want my heart. You will restore me to wholeness. You revive my soul. Thank you, sweet Jesus. Amen.

About the Author

Talitha Eckermann

I’m Talitha. I’m twenty-something with a lot to learn, living in Brisbane and trying to keep too many indoor plants alive. I love people, the beach and singing to my friend, Jesus. By day, I work in primary schools as a youth and family support worker. I’m passionate about drawing near to those on the fringes and extending the reckless, undiscriminating love of Jesus. It’s my desire that these words would speak deeply to hearts about identity and belonging and encourage you deeper into the father-heart of God.

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