Broken Pot

Thoughts and occasional lights poured forth through the cracks of a broken pot

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Weary

28 "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."   
Matthew 11:28-29

I guess you can say I've been weary.  Circumstances, you know.

What I hadn't realized before was how I could be a judgemental  SOB to my own weariness.  Perhaps it was fear of the unknown, or perhaps it was fear of public perceptions (if the empty ice cream isle could loosely be termed as 'public').  Whatever it was, I gave myself a good talking to whenever feelings managed to raise its ugly head.

I also found ways to place blame in not being a "good enough" christian to "rise above it", or for not wanting to rise out of anything (including my bed) sometimes.  Circumstances came and went, but I stayed in one spot, or a small circular pattern of eat, act and sleep.  A drug named "caffeine" took over me often like a current running through a tired old robot, propelling it to run through familiar old instructions and carry out familiar old routines. Crying spells would short circuit these routines from time to time, ruining tired old circuitry with moisture and rust.  The old drone would lay lifeless in a heap then for a time, until the next repair and recharge.

The concept of "resting in Christ" has sounded easier before all this, when there were less circumstantial ashes piled over me.  There seem to be a perpetual blindness that covered not only one's eyes but also the heart, so no light could reach -- inside or out.  It made me wonder if Cinderella's soot coverings were of the same nature, after her father's passing.  Could it be she had been grieving so severely that it simply covered her physically in grayness?  I was sure everyone could see it in me, just like I had been rolling in soot all day.  The minute I thought maybe they couldn't, that they'd forgotten, because maybe I'd forgotten, guilt would wrap around me like a rope and pull me back in swift tugs.

Looking back I can only say that God had provided me with rest and what I needed.  Grieving and depression had given me reprieve from the world which I would have never allowed myself.  My guilt was all of my own, as whenever I sought after Him I received assurance that the time was right for taking a break from things, even from "doing the right things".

So I have been weary.  Thanks for helping me accept it.




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