Two days ago, I read right past a sentence inconspicuously tucked into a larger story in scripture. This morning, I was drawn back to that seemingly insignificant line. I glanced at the words and half-heartedly read them, prepared to move on. Then, feeling a stirring, I paused and read them again slowly and then again once more, letting the words seep in.
I sat in the stillness of the morning – listening to the rain softly fall outside of my window, grateful for the quiet of little ones still asleep. I focused on the pitter patter of the rain and prayed for discernment over the words.
Gently, a name came to mind.
A friend in an intense season of waiting for her adopted daughter to come home. A season of weariness and heaviness, a season I am intimately acquainted with.
I texted her the words, along with an earnest prayer for rest for her weary heart.
She immediately responded with gratitude – this morning had brought fresh grief and anger and frustration. These ancient, Spirit-breathed words were like a balm to her anxious soul.
In no way am I telling this story to somehow lift myself up. I tell this story because I think someone else needs these words, as well. I tell this story because I am once again in awe of the attentiveness of our Savior. He sees us, He meets us, He sends words for us – through scripture, through friends, through music, in unlikely places – He reminds us we are never alone. Even in our exhaustion and weariness, He is there.
For they said, “You must all be very hungry and tired and thirsty after your long march through the wilderness.”
{2 Samuel 17:29 NLT, emphasis mine}
In 2 Samuel 17, we find David and his men fleeing Jerusalem after his son, Absalom, had begun a rebellion to overtake the throne. They have been traveling through a literal wilderness and were physically exhausted. When they arrive at the town of Mahanaim, they are shown warm hospitably and are generously supplied with food and water and beds for rest.
May we be like the people of Mahanaim, may we be gracious and generous and kind-hearted to weary souls.
And, may those currently in the midst of their own long walk through the arid, scorching wilderness find comfort in knowing God sees you. He knows you are weary, He knows you are exhausted and parched. I pray you receive a fresh spring of living water this morning, a gentle nudge toward rest. May He abundantly bless you with sustenance today, and tomorrow, and the day after. Until this long march is over, may you find your rest in Him.