My spiritual season changed that summer from dry and stagnant to my being
flooded with opportunity and activity until my life spun out of control. I was
more than exhausted, but I couldn’t stop. No, I wouldn’t
stop.
“I’m worn out,” I whined to my long-ago friend in her
newly-acquired wheelchair, fully expecting either sympathy or a stern lecture. The
sympathy I wanted; the lecture I would deflect.
As only an
eighty-year-old could, she slammed the door on my pity party. "That's
good!" she said, jabbing her finger at my chin. "Huh?" My
whimper slid down to my toes.
"You're BUSY. Do everything you can. Do it now, while you’re young
and able.” Funny, I wasn’t feeling
young. My menopausal body felt rather
cranky, actually.
“I’m old,” she persisted. “I can’t write, I can’t walk, I
can’t do anything. I help stuff envelopes
now,” she sneered. “Envelopes!” Her finger jabbed again, lower and harder this
time. “Don’t worry about being tired.
Now is the time to do as much as you can. Someday you won’t be able to.”
Dumbfounded, I nodded, swallowing hard. “Permission
granted,” my heart screamed at my head, waving a huge banner, but my head still
didn’t get it.
The seasons changed yet again, and another long, dry spell
beat my willing hands into frustrated fists and crippled my eager heart. I
waited for ten long, soul-deadening years. Finally, the door swung open on a
new opportunity and I ran. No, I sprinted through that door. I pulled
all-nighters, worked furiously, and I smiled.
There is a season to run; a time to dive into the deep end
of the pool with one’s clothes on and swim furiously without stopping. This
abandon isn’t politically correct. This
passion is not balanced. Balance stifles,
blinds and patronizes the heart’s running leap. There is no balance in the
Kingdom. Rhythms of quiet and rest, joy and delight, restraint and energy, yes.
But not balance.
Jesus did not practice “balance.” He taught until he had to run from the crowds
to survive. He healed “all who were ill”
-- ALL. (Mt. 12:15, NIV). He went out to be with His Father and pray --all
night. That is not balance, it is passion.
All-out whole-hearted running to the will of the Father, doing the
delight of His heart and doing it with abandon.
He waited thirty years, but He ran like blazes for three.
“They will run and
not grow weary…” says Isaiah 40:31, after the waiting. There is a season. If your heart draws you, and the pieces fall
in place; if the door opens and you cannot be restrained; if the question comes
and you must say yes, then run. He who
calls you says “Now!” It is your season to go “all-in,” to do the very thing
you were created to do, to “leave no doubt,” and to burst through every
door.
Run, run my soul, and do not grow weary!
What season are you in?
Tweetable: Jesus waited thirty years, but He ran like blazes for three. (Click to Tweet)
Tweetable: Jesus waited thirty years, but He ran like blazes for three. (Click to Tweet)
Wendy Coy is
a worship leader, intercessor, prayer minister, teacher and writer — but
primarily a lover of Jesus. For more than 25 years, her passion
has been to teach people to hear the voice of God, pray effectively, and
minister the love and healing of Jesus. Wendy is the author of “Learning
to Pray Like Jesus” (one woman’s journey to listening and healing prayer) and
“Tough Stuff,” (an interactive healing discipleship curriculum for youth
groups).
Wendy and her husband Phil founded and direct innerACTS,
equipping emerging leaders to minister effectively in prayer, worship and small
groups. At home in New England, she loves all things choral and
music in general, contradances and Celtic bands, cooking, crafts, and creating
community wherever she goes.
Join Wendy's blog at Road to Emmaus
Join Wendy's blog at Road to Emmaus
