Know that the Lord has set apart the faithful for Himself; The Lord will hear when I call to Him. Be angry and do not sin; on Your bed, reflect in Your heart and be still. Psalm 4:3-4
Yahweh, I remember Your name in the night, and I obey Your instruction. This is my practice: I obey Your precepts. Psalm 119:55-56
My words…
My bed pillow and I spend a lot of time together—at least nine hours a night, sometimes more. But our time together may not involve sleep. Most nights, I struggle to shake off the cares of my life and drift into peaceful slumber. Minutes of insomnia evolve into hours. Frustration mounts. I sigh. I toss. I consider a trip to the frig. And then, like the Psalmist, I remember You. I think about what you’re doing at that very moment. You’re not sleeping either. May as well spend some quality time together. I wish I could say our nighttime chats were life-changing epiphanies and visions of the heavenly realm featuring the Seraphim and Cherubim. Instead, they’re the ramblings of a person in need of sleep. Remember these gems?
*Jesus, if You were to show up in my hometown, would You invite Yourself to my house for lunch like You did to Zacchaeus? Would I have to climb a tree first? (These are serious issues at 3 a.m.)
*Is it all right if I hate Satan and refuse to forgive him? (We’re still working on this one.)
*John writes that You have gone to prepare a place for me somewhere I can’t see. Would you mind sending me a glimpse? (It’s not that I don’t trust Your taste. Just curious.)
*What is dark matter? Never mind. I think it’s cool that only You know. (I hope it stays that way.)
*Dinosaurs? Really?
I know for a fact the Psalmist never posed this sort of mess to You at night. But I also know that mess results in a small revelation from You. It may be a message of comfort I recall from scripture. (The Angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him.) Or it may be a sense of calm. (Everything will be all right.) You don’t seem to mind that I sound more like a four-year-old than a grown-up. For that, I am grateful.
Thank You, Lord, for the night. I don’t like the dark. It’s when the coyotes cry and the police sirens wail. But without the night, I’m afraid I would not (or could not) spend hours on end with You. You are my Light in the night. Dare I say, Night Light?
