Wednesday, February 13, 2013

But my flesh is so weak


O God, You are my God;
Early will I seek You;
My soul thirsts for You;
My flesh longs for You
In a dry and thirsty land
Where there is no water.
So I have looked for You in the sanctuary,
To see Your power and Your glory.  Psalm 62:1-2

At first I thought it was a little awkward to say that my flesh longs for Him, my God.  I get the soul part, the spiritual child-of-God in me, longing for oneness, but flesh is such an awkward, raw sort of word. Literally.

No one ever really used the flesh-colored crayon in our Crayola box of 64.  It remained pointy and unbroken.  Awkward.

But now I get it.  All the humanness parts of me that will never find comfort and settledness no matter what.  All the parts that just, just is going to be the qualifying word I imagine for this whole section, just wants everyone to be happy and get along, just wants to kiss the boo boo and make it all better, just wants to curl up by the fire and read a good book.  But life is not like that.

Perhaps my soul soars over the snow-covered Catalinas upward and outward, following close behind Him, but my flesh is restless.  Seeking and squirming.  

My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness, but for my flesh, this is not my home.  A thirst cannot be quenched where there is no water.  I must look elsewhere.  

His lovingkindness is better than life.  

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