A few months into the arrival of our 3rd living baby and I feel more desperate than I ever have in my entire life. The finicky sleep, round the clock nursing, and abundant needs abound, constantly.
You know that wilted clock painting by the painter Salvador Dali? It feels like the margins of my life; the time I once thought I had to be still feels dreadfully anemic. The one hour I once had to sit in prayer and contemplation in the presence of the Lord and to meditate on the truth of the Word of God has been dispersed into 2-5 minute factions spanning 24 hours.
My times spent with the Lord for weeks now, I often feel the peak of this desperation. Painfully desperate for time to stop.
This desperation feels a lot like inhaling the cool winter air from the morning. Refreshing and hopeful and expectant in the first 2 to 3 minutes; finally. But then the subtle unmistakable sting settles in and lingers: this constant awareness that the intended 20 minutes may possibly evolve precipitously into only 2 today… and all the while feeling the invitation to choose to be grateful and fully present for all of it even if my thankfulness feels more in my head than my heart today.
Though uncomfortable, this desperation doesn’t feel disparaging oddly. It actually feels holy and I have been trying to figure out why for weeks. I have been wondering why this shifty restless unsettled feeling of desperation I have been trying to shake actually feels spiritually essential deep down. It finally dawned on me last week. This desperation actually reminds me acutely of a greater gift: the gift of dependency. It serves the purpose of reminding me of my constant neediness, constantly… and is intended specifically to spur me to abide in Jesus… even when there are nappies to be washed, noses to be wiped, clinical cases to complete, hearts to be held, and phone calls to return.
I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. John 15:5, The Holy Bible (ESV)
I can do nothing without him. Not mother. Not doctor. Not love well. Nothing. And He actually cares for me too much to allow me to forget this amidst the flurry that is life at the moment.
If you find yourself faced with this similar flavor of desperation, before wishing it away yet again, maybe thank God for the gift of your smallness, the constant reminders of your insufficient self-sufficiency, and your whole dependency on Him.
Lord Jesus, keep me desperate for you.
Ifeoma
Miles of Courage 