Abba, can You hear me? Can You reach me even now?
I’m crushed by the wait.
I’m poured out, spent, emptied.Nothing left to offer. No music in my head. No visual in my mind.
Nothing left to produce the aroma of service or sacrifice.
Just my will, sin twisted, continually seeking its own.
Just my wounds, never sated, a constant demand for comfort,
or satisfaction, or justice, or peace, or love.
Always present, always lurking, always leering
whether I’m spent, or walking in confidence, sin is present.
Will sin be spent? Does lust run out?
Does temptation come to the end of itself?
Does the enemy have access to a limitless supply,
never wearying the art of accusation?
Never reaching the end of his foul resources?
“That’s it, I can’t go on.” Will that ever come out of his mouth?
All of these questions find their rest in Jesus.
Can You hear me? Can You reach me even now?
