It's a rainy day and I'm not even in Georgia. But it sure feels like it's raining all over the world, at least in my life. This has been one tough stretch in my life. Church planting definitely isn't for cowards or the weak of heart. Weak yes, weak of heart, no. Right now, not only is it raining on the outside, it's raining on the inside of me. My tears are welling up in me and I long for God to wipe them from my eyes.
The news has not been good the last couple of weeks for me personally, actually for the last few years. Not that any one thing is so devastating, it's the culmination of things building. We're losing income, especially from outside support both as a church and me personally. We're losing personnel at church due to job changes and various personal reasons. Seems we're battling against a lot of stuff. I'm battling a lot of personal stuff. I'm really feeling more and more like Elijah all alone in the wilderness or Jehoshaphat facing the vast army of the Moabites and Ammonites or even Gideon up against the Midianites that were "as thick as locust" and their camels that "no more could be counted than the sand on the seashore."
On top of all the challenges upon us, upon me, I heard on the radio this morning a DJ talking about his experience with an elderly gentleman at the gym. He went on making excuses for the inappropriate social behavior and out of touch attire of this OLDER man. Then he revealed the that this aged person looked to be in his mid fifties. Hang on just a minute. Mid fifties is a long way from geezerhood.
With all of this stuff weighing on my heart, the Lord led me to Psalm 90 today. What a perfect passage for me. Not only does it reaffirm my mortality and my inadequacy, it celebrates the majesty and power of God. In this Psalm, noted as a prayer of Moses, the psalmist notes the brevity of our lives and the toll life takes on us through the years. He cries out to God to teach us to "number our days aright" so that we may gain a heart of wisdom.
Okay, my days are waning on this earth. If the psalmist is right, I've got about fifteen to twenty-five years left if I'm lucky. Every day from here on out can't be wasted doing ineffective things or piddling around. Every day has to count for Him.
Yet, the cry of the psalmist in verse 13 is the cry of my heart today. Relent, O Lord! How long will it be? Have some compassion on your servant. Satisfy me in the morning with your unfailing love, that I may sing for joy and be glad all my days. Make me glad for as many days as you have afflicted me, for as many years as I've seen trouble. May your deeds be shown to your servant, your splendor to my children. May the favor of the Lord, my God rest upon me; establish the work of my hands for me--yes, establish the work of my hands.
God, I don't how much more I can take. I need to see your hand moving. I need to experience your presence like never before. I give up. I'm crying, "Uncle." I'm broken and dishearten. God, I know the psalmist didn't say satisfy me with success. He said satisfy me with your unfailing love. I need that unfailing love. You promised, Lord that you would not break a bruised reed or snuff out a smoldering wick. I'm feeling pretty bruised today and I'm just smoldering. Renew my flame. Heal my spirit. Fill me with your joy. Give me the victories of Elijah and Jehoshaphat and Gideon. Not that I deserve it, but for your glory.
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