empty

I'm terrible at starting conversations with people I don't know. Last night, I went into Dollar General to buy the wasp spray I keep forgetting to buy. Wasps are tormenting us in the middle of October. They come out of nowhere, and we are defenseless. I got to the register at 8:15pm, and the cashier was new to our store. She looked tired. As I approached we exchanged pleasantries, but when the conversation fell flat, I struggled to find words. She chattered to herself about the bags, her co-worker, the boxes, whatever, whatever. I couldn't hear most of what she was saying, but I liked her and wanted to engage. But I couldn't. I was empty.

I'm struggling. I've just come through a season of warfare. I prayed and fasted and gathered people to pray, and God heard our prayers and answered. There's no question about it; God moved on our behalf. He heard and responded in a powerful way. When the answer came, I cried all day. It was partly because I was so overwhelmed at the fact that God did what we asked Him to do. I felt humbled at this display of His power. His reach extends far beyond what we can ask or even imagine. But underneath pure joy, I felt empty from weeks of praying and begging and asking and carrying the burden to the feet of Jesus day after day. I spent it all and have nothing left. 

Days before the answer came, someone spoke this timely wisdom into my life. "Let the ground rest." In the soil of my heart, I've been through a labor-intensive season of harvest, and it's time to rest. Even if it feels empty and dry and fruitless, this part of the road is not without purpose. None of it is. 

"You shall work six days, but on the seventh day you shall rest; even during plowing time and harvest you shall rest." Exodus 34:21