The rottenest thing about having jet lag to the west of wherever it is you live is that you try everything to keep your eyes open until a justifiable bedtime and you still end up waking in the early am thinking about all the things. Random things, such as so and so's birthday (Which you didn't forget, but were on a plane for most of the day and did forget to text her. Is 2am an appropriate time for texting just-belated birthday greetings?), or remembering to deposit that check (or did you already do it?), or your husband's interview in the morning, or, wait, did you remember to rent a car for next week's trip? Were you going to do that or was he? Oh and that reminds you (though you can't figure out how, but certainly try to figure out how): did you give the dog her heart-worm meds before you left? I know you meant to, but did you?
By this time it's 3am (but 6am by your wretched internal clock) and you've thought through so many different kinds of things, you've stretched your mind from the west to the east and back again and there's no use going back to sleep. But one still tries. For hours.
I am in beautiful Washington state to speak at a women's conference in Spokane. We knew it would fall in February, knowing there was a great chance we would be in the middle of more transition. What seemed simple in September, though, seems overwhelming in Spokane today. Nate was out of town at the beginning of the week, I am gone now, we have a friend in town next week, and then I leave for Texas to find us a place to live (pray we do), then we begin the process of moving all over again. There are forty-seven thoughts and things to keep track of and they all seem so compartmentalized and if I forget to give 100% to one, it will crumble I'm sure (I'm not actually sure, but anxiety doesn't deal in sureties does it?).
It has been occurring to me recently the thing about anxiety (and jet lag) is, like life, you can't control it. Sometimes it comes over you in waves, sometimes it pools at your feet, sometimes it throws you against the Rock of Ages.
Spurgeon has often been quoted to have said, "I have learned to kiss the wave that throws me against the rock of ages," but it's not an accurate quote. What he really said was, "The wave of temptation may even wash you higher up upon the Rock of ages, so that you cling to it with a firmer grip than you have ever done before, and so again where sin abounds, grace will much more abound," and I like this version better. I think it is good and right to "kiss the wave," but how much better to kiss the Rock?
Distractions are aplenty and never fail to seem ever surmounting, and sometimes they come all at once, trying to keep us from the biggest small thing we'll ever do, which is to just be faithful with today. I don't know what you're facing today, what's keeping you awake at night, what's on your plate and taking up space in your head, but I do know you're not God and neither am I. In days (and nights) when there seems to be so much to do and never enough time, I want to let those waves wash me higher up onto the Rock of ages and trust Him to never move.
Hear my cry, O God,
listen to my prayer;
from the end of the earth I call to you
when my heart is faint.
Lead me to the rock
that is higher than I,
for you have been my refuge,
a strong tower against the enemy. (Ps. 61:1-3)