Give me Jesus

God, I’m exhausted.

You know what this week has thrown at me and it’s no surprise that I’m ready to call it a day. I’m tired and tearful and probably hormonal and at least I know that you’re the one person who won’t roll their eyes and put all this angst down to hormones; you invented them. You know what they can do to a person.

Lord, it’s been a bad week. Not to put too fine a point on it. Sorry.

I haven’t even got the energy to tell you all about it – but that’s alright because you know already. You were there. You think I can handle it. You’re probably right, I suppose – what choice do I have? But I’m going to need some help.

I came across this picture on the Internet. I love it. It’s a beautiful picture of a sunrise and the caption is:

‘In the morning, when I rise, give me Jesus.’

It turns out that it’s a quote from a traditional spiritual song that I don’t know which was famously arranged by a lady called Alma Blackmon. The words are very simple, and beautiful and the refrain:

‘You can have all this world

Just give me Jesus’.

That’s about it.

There have been a handful of times in my life, Lord God, when I’ve run out of… well, everything. Energy, ideas, patience, peace of mind. This week is pretty much one of those times. Bad news has piled on top of bad news and anxiety and worry linked arms and barged their way back into my head where they set up camp and made themselves comfortable. Fear crept in quietly and ominously and now huddles with them round the camp fire and depression and defeat are waiting in the shadows for an invitation.

Give me Jesus.

Lord, give me Jesus when I rise, and before that, when I lie in bed and stab at the snooze button and try to stay asleep because it’s easier being asleep than awake. Give me Jesus when I come downstairs and start to nag the children about eating breakfast, brushing hair, brushing teeth, getting dressed, finding bookbags and finding shoes.

Give me Jesus on the school run. Give me Jesus as I walk away into the grown-up bit of day which this week hasn’t been a whole lot of fun. As I spend time with people I love, give me Jesus so that they can see Him, not me.

Give me Jesus as I collect the kids and make tea. Give me Jesus as I run baths and find pyjamas. Give me Jesus as I put them to bed and then do it all over again. And again.

Lord, Give me Jesus. You can have all this world, just give me Jesus.

Lord, you can have all this world. I don’t want it at the moment. It’s a world full of broken marriages and pain and illness and hospitals and doctors and X rays and bad news and low self esteem and tears and waiting on hard chairs and lying awake at night not-knowing and filling the gaps with imagination that just loves to paint everything bleak and grim.

It’s a world full of shadows that are so dark that sometimes it’s hard to see you.

It’s a world where you are visible in the huge extravagant beauty of the first poppy blooming in my garden and in the promise of the flowers on the tomato plants and in the baby radishes peeping potential above the soil. It’s a world of purply-grey stormy skies and lashing rain then watery sunshine and subtle rainbows and the smell of wet dusty ground.

It’s a world where those that have eyes to see and ears to hear can find you all everywhere – and all that’s just lovely and great but right now it’s not enough, Father God. I don’t want to discern you in subtleties, I want to run actually, not figuratively, into your real, solid, faithful arms and feel the weight and strength of your embrace. To let my legs go as wobbly as they feel and let you pick me up effortlessly and hold me close like a little girl.

Daddy, I’m tired.

I don’t want to be strong. I want to give up. I want to stay asleep.

I don’t want to keep trying to communicate when I don’t have words. I don’t want to persevere with the goals you’ve set me, I want to sit down and not move. I don’t want to make decisions and I don’t want to explain bad things to small children and I just don’t want to do any of it any more.

I don’t want to run the race, I’m tired and I want to rest.

You can have all this world. Just give me Jesus.

Amen. Just…amen.

About Helen Murray

I'm a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister and a child of God.
This entry was posted in A CLICK A BLESSING TODAY, CHRISTIAN LIFE AND THE WORD, CHRISTIAN TEENS BLOGS, SHARING STRUGGLES , Shaping Spiritual Solutions! and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

11 Responses to Give me Jesus

  1. I dare say many readers would totally identify with your extremely well-written sentiments. We have all been there. Life can at times seem futile, but for every blood-bought, adopted child of the living God, life is given a purpose. Our incredibly amazing Father God showers us with the abundance of His blessings, supplies all we need and enables and empowers us to live victoriously for Him. Even when we feel ‘down’ when we submit to Him, He lifts us and He uses us to His own glory.

    • Helen Murray says:

      He does indeed – thank you. I’m reminded also of the ‘Trust in the Lord and lean not on your own understanding…’ passage as well. I don’t know why things happen, but He does. He sees the Big Picture and I see only a tiny part. Thank you so much for your comment.

  2. ptl2010 says:

    God hears and He answers prayers. His promises are ever true.
    His grace is sufficient for you. Be still and know that He is God and in control.

  3. I had tears of understanding as I read this wonderfully written post. There is such beauty in the words you have used to describe such pain and suffering. I have felt it so often and reading your beautiful words melted into my heart and reminded me that I am not the only one who gets like that and cries for my Daddy. I am not the only one who wants to give up. And yet our Father’s arms are strong enough to carry us both, and all the others out there who feel like this. Imagine how lost those who don’t know him are. 😦 Blessings to you and thank you for sharing this wonderful post.

    • Helen Murray says:

      Oh, thank you for your lovely words! We’re all His children and He’s always there to run to when it gets too much. He’s our refuge indeed. Thank you for your encouragement. It means a lot.

  4. Have felt that way too many times to count. I am so glad my Father knows exactly what need at that moment, and the times I have remained there a little longer than I should, He gently nudges me forward. He likes this kind of communication best, where we are real, and honest and raw. Thanks for this post. I am sure it will encourage many who feel they are the only ones who feel this way.

  5. Planting Potatoes says:

    good read Helen……I like that song myself very much…. this is my favorite version: http://youtu.be/wS4JQi4dgvg

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