He Meets Me

In the drawer of my nightstand you will find a copy of The Power of a Praying Wife. I have been praying through one topic from this book before I go to sleep each night as a way to make spiritual deposits in my marriage. A few nights ago, I prayed these words over my husband: “May Your presence be like a delicacy he never ceases to crave.” For the past several days I have not been able to get that sentence out of my mind. Something about those words have been touching a very raw part of my heart.

I realized this morning that amidst the bustle of my everyday life, I often push aside the delicacy of Christ’s presence and settle for feeding on all sorts of scraps—maintaining our family schedule, keeping up with endless piles of laundry, and nurturing our many house plants. I search for meaning in what I can accomplish. I chase after joy in the fleeting pleasures of this world.

Far too often, I approach my time with God with an attitude of duty rather than delight, or I am tempted to neglect these moments with God all together in order to give that time to the subordinate idols of organization, creativity, personal achievement, and entertainment.

Time and time again I choose to overlook, ignore, or reject the banquet He has placed before me and discount all evidence of spiritual starvation in order to run on the weak battery of my own power. But as that quickly runs dry and my performance is increasingly feeble I wonder: Why do I allow myself to go hungry? Why do I keep turning back to this life of incessant emptiness?

Grief seems only to compound this pattern. Navigating the unpredictable waves of sorrow leave us starved for comfort, reprieve, and hope, and we end up believing the lie that the best we can do is keep reaching for the crumbs of phantom fulfillment lying on the floor before us. But its never enough. It always leaves us wanting. Surely we don’t have to run on empty when we can be running in the very presence of our Savior—the Trustworthy One who intimately and passionately meets us even in our lowest moments.

Regardless of the countless distractions I encounter in my pursuit of the Lord and my often half-hearted approach, every time I come to Him—whether I come hungry for Him or hurriedly so I can get on with the rest of my day—He graciously and lovingly meets me. In the depth of my brokenness He meets me. In the pit of my selfishness He meets me. And all the while He patiently holds out the feast of His presence for me, waiting for me to stop trying to fill myself with the table scraps of my own effort.

Dear one, God, in His marvelous grace, takes it even one step further. He went beyond simply meeting us and chose to send His Son to become like us, to die for us. The King of Kings left His thrown to become a humble servant so that He might take us in His arms and carry us to His table, opening the door that leads to the feast of His Father’s presence.

He ceaselessly involves Himself in the messy reality of our lives and wrestles with us until we no longer resist Him. He longs to give you a taste of His goodness, joy, hope, and peace, knowing full well that when we finally choose to be satisfied with the food He has to offer us, we will quit running back to the garbage we have been wallowing in.

So, I sit here with my heart hungry to be filled by God and take the time to really notice all that He has here before me. And it is good. For the first time in too long, I am full.