My journal is sitting on the table beside our guest bed. It’s been mostly unopened all summer.
My Bible sits next to it. It’s not much better.
And there’s this tension, because it’s not that I’m running away from Jesus. But am I actually running toward Him?
There was something soothing about the busyness of this past year. Life was crazy but it was vibrant. Time with Jesus was sweet because it was specially carved out of everyday. This summer has been a beautiful contrast to that. And while the lull of summer is brimming with needed relaxation, it is also a breeding ground for the aches in my soul.
What good is this stillness if my heart isn’t being reminded that He is God and He is good?
It’s nothing deep. It’s nothing profound. It barely feels coherent. I don’t know that I’ve ever written something so short in my life. But it’s all I’ve got on this blistering summer day, as I decide whether to ignore or wade through the depths of my heart.
It shouldn’t be a choice really, between Jesus, His joy, His love and the kind of mental slumber that fosters the Enemy’s lies. But I make it one, everyday.
I’m choosing Him today.