I am drained and I am learning this lesson of what it looks like to be continually filled for survival. Or maybe not survival, I can’t imagine a being, being filled is doing anything but thriving.
Because LIFE, we’re all buckets with holes at the bottom; constantly pouring out, constantly dripping and lending life and giving ourselves away. But how are we filled from the top? From the Source of all Life? This is what I’m learning. To allow myself to be filled.
We all accept the love we think we deserve.
I used to sit and read my old journals with such shame of who I was and where I was at in my young life. Yes, it was all about boys and crushes and breaking heart at surface level. I wish I had given myself a little grace and, instead of ripping out those pages, I wish I had searched deeper to find patterns of hope. To find psalm formulas of VENT VENT, BUT GOD. Because David journaled in that same way.
VENT VENT, drip-drop, pour yourself out and then look up to see the tap on full blast and life pouring in, replacing the lost and depleted.
We are never, completely empty (though God knows we feel like it); we are not glasses upturned and dripping out our last drops. We are being refreshed- the New, cascading down, reaching low, breaking up the dregs, bringing it up, up, and out. The clean, clearing out the silt, but not emptying, not draining. Increasing and decreasing in just the right amounts.
VENT VENT, BUT GOD.
I am drained. Too tired to cry it out; too tired to sleep it off; too tired to do anything but let this washing, this cleansing do its work. Anxiety, depression, distrust all washes out; hope, hope, hope, hope, hope settles. All hope. Nothing but hope- that heavy, holy sediment.
But God will anchor me with hope.