sleepless reflections...

I've ended up in coffee-shops hanging out with girls midafternoon for the past few days. Unfortunately, this habit has its consequences. Last night found me at 2am last night physically exhausted but with my brain going a mile a minute.

Now, sleeplessness is never fun. But when you are already lonely, aching for friends whose lives seem to be unraveling, and overwhelmed by a world that just seems out of control, it's downright miserable. And my bedroom just felt so dark, even when I turned the light on. One, tiny little light in a whole house only accentuated my status as lone insomniac. But I'm not sure if I can blame the sleeplessness on the caffeine. Sometimes I think the weight of the world works better than any espresso.

For awhile I just didn't fight it. I lit candles, listened to music, wrote. But eventually, the novelty wore off and I wanted to sleep but couldn't. And I realized how terribly afraid I am right now. And how much I wonder if Jesus cares. And if he really is good and in control of the economy, my new life in B'ham, the lives of friends back home, the lives of the students I'm just getting to know.

I tend to define God's character based on my circumstances, rather than seeing my circumstances in the light of God's character... Like the disciples, in a boat hundreds of years ago. That was a real night, too. A dark, stormy, out-of-control night, when the disciples cried out, "Jesus, don't you care we are perishing?" This passage (Mark 4:35-41) was the sermon on Sunday, so it's been banging around in my head the past couple of days. And I can relate.

But Jesus cared about the disciples enough to lead them straight into the storm, to wait while the storm raged before asserting his power over the storm with a harsh rebuke. This is not warm, fuzzy, precious moments Jesus. This is Jesus bracing himself again the side of the heaving vessel, salt-sea spraying in his face, wind ripping through his hair, commanding the storm to be still.

I just do not think of Jesus as having that kind of power over my life. And not just power, but also love. He loved his discples enough to rattle their world because what they needed wasn't safety but, rather, to see who He really was. They needed to ask, "Who is this Jesus?" And I need to wrestle with this question, too, for my heart is quick to became calloused and comfortable in my fearful unbelief. And what I need isn't always to be delivered but to see Jesus in the midst of the storm.