Rousing from Slumber

"I sleep, but my heart waketh." 
Song of Solomon 5:2 

Some sort of lethargy entangled me like a thick quilt that would hinder one from embracing the new day.

My step was as heavy as my sigh and even washing the dishes felt like toilsome labor.  

I couldn't understand. I was supposed to be the one who brewed the first cup of coffee before daybreak, who had her quiet time in the stillness of the morning, who was energized by the breath of dawn.

And yet, for more than a fortnight I would struggle with this unexplained illness that would cause me to drain energy from the home instead of contribute to its supply.  Mysterious fevers accompanied every night's sleep while the alarm clock invited a headache to pound.  It was time to prepare lunch by the time I would wake to take breakfast; even when I succumbed to my drowsiness and retired early, I never felt quite rested.

Neither fresh air nor cold showers would shake the languor.  I just couldn't wake up. 

Was it spiritual or physical? I did not know. Perhaps my spine was misaligned or I needed badly to detox.  We began back therapy more regularly. I quit drinking coffee and consuming sugar. There was a slight improvement, but the fevers still came while the energy would not.

And what was worse: I began to lose the desire to improve my condition, and this frightened me.  When had I fallen into this slump, this valley? Why was it so difficult to muster the zeal to advance the Kingdom? Why was I becoming more complacent with my sin? Why was I becoming comfortable with strained relationships and selfishness?

I sleep. Through sin that dwelleth in us we may become lax in holy duties, slothful in religious exercises, dull in spiritual joys, and altogether supine and careless. This is a shameful state for one in whom the quickening Spirit dwells; and it is dangerous to the highest degree. 

Even wise virgins sometimes slumber, but it is high time for all to shake off the bands of sloth. It is to be feared that many believers lose their strength as Samson lost his locks, while sleeping on the lap of carnal security. 

With a perishing world around us, to sleep is cruel; with eternity so near at hand, it is madness. Yet we are none of us so much awake as we should be; a few thunder-claps would do us all good, and it may be, unless we soon bestir ourselves, we shall have them in the form of war, or pestilence, or personal bereavements and losses. 

O that we may leave for ever the couch of fleshly ease, and go forth with flaming torches to meet the coming Bridegroom! 

God was incredibly gracious in delivering my "thunder-clap".  I was scheduled to travel with Daddy to New Orleans for week-long business trip.

We were hoping that I would have a chance to catch up on sleep and become diligent in daily exercise. I would have time to quiet my mind with steady reading while I sunned beside the hotel window. I would have a week to rest, to think, to create, to write, to pray.  

And I did. Physically, I was rejuvenated.  

But God was pleased to jar me from my state of spiritual apathy as well. 

First, the time was provided for Daddy and I to talk deeply over matters that were weighing on my heart. I gave my heart anew to my father, and he gave me his instruction. This was not a thunder-clap, but rather like a refreshing rain that washed a few worries away.

The "thunder-clap" came in a second Providence. Daddy wanted to try to take me to dinner someplace else than the hotel restaurant. So we took to the streets of New Orleans. He gave me instructions in deportment and I did my best to heed his advice. 

He suggested that we might browse a souvenir shop to see if we could find any decent gifts to bring home. I found a bottle of hot sauce for my brother and was perusing the sun hats for my sister when Dad suddenly told me I needed to hurry.  We hastily paid for the bottle of hot sauce and left the store.  The chaotic music that they were playing in the stores made him uneasy. I felt the same way, and was glad to be out of there. 

I saw another shop filled with pretty long flowing dresses and asked to stop there. I knew McCauley would like quite a few things hanging on the racks. As I shopped, Daddy walked toward the back to ask if the attendant could suggest a good restaurant.  Before I'd made my way to the scarves, Daddy was urging me to leave again. When we were a safe distance from the store, he explained that they had bongs burning in the back and that the curious smell alarmed him. Were they really smoking marijuana?!  I reminded him that the name of the store had the word "Hippy" in it, so we shouldn't be surprised if that were the case.

We tried several more shops, and left each one just as suddenly for one shocking reason or another. I had to browse with downcast eyes (which is difficult!), glancing carefully at the bottom of every rack to determine if it was safe for viewing. You may call me sheltered if you like - I do not mind. I am infinitely glad that I am sheltered for when I did accidentally catch a glimpse of some very wicked things, I was anxious to escape the marketplace and Daddy was all too ready to oblige. I think this is how a Christian girl should be - sensitive to sinful paraphernalia and ever ready to turn her foot way from Vanity Fair. I only regret that I am not so sensitive to the manifestations of my own besetting sins and so ready to turn away from the snares of my pet temptations.

We continued to search for a restaurant. If it wasn't an unappetizing menu it was the music blaring or the smoke hanging heavy in the greasy air that kept us from settling on any dining place. The mound of garbage overflowing from dumpsters guarded other doors. By the time we found a suitable place, it was dark and the rowdy din of New Orleans nightlife was beginning to make me anxious. Couldn't we just eat at the hotel? Daddy agreed and we settled for another second-rate meal at 5 Fifty 5. After the kind waitress took our order, I remarked to Dad that I was glad we we'd chosen to eat at the hotel. I was getting so nervous on the streets because my mind was in hyper-drive because there was just too much to analyze. We both agreed I needed to mature in that area - I needed to be able to handle a challenging environment with Christian fortitude and a peaceful spirit. But I'd had enough practice for a day, and my mind enjoyed the rest of simply analyzing the aesthetic implications of mixing old upholstery with modern light fixtures and trying to discern if there was any kind of order to the jazz music they were playing in the background. 

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While Daddy was busy at the convention the next day, I observed the street from my hotel window. My mind was buzzing as I tried to assimilate the things I'd seen the night before. How could a city display its wickedness so openly? The influences of Christianity had faded in so many areas: voodoo was celebrated, putrid dumpsters gaped open at the entrance of restaurants, people dressed carelessly, chaotic noise was called 'music', licentious women were a main attraction, gambling looked like innocent fun compared to the other lures that were freely advertised, quality food and hygienic environments were concepts seemingly rejected by most establishments. The frequent appearance of the fleur de lis was a constant reminder of the Enlightenment ideology imported from Europe as well as the example of cultural compromise set forth by Roman Catholic missions.

Meanwhile, I had been reading a debate about abortion between Christian friends and scoffing atheists. How angry the liberals become when Christians endeavor to protect innocent life! I was saddened to think of the stronghold that humanism has in our society - so penetrating that the act of dismembering a baby in his mother's womb is not only conceivable... it's legal! I had just read a news article that announced that Chick-fil-A was caving under the pressure from the sodomite community. How close to Sodom and Gomorrah are we when it becomes a "hate crime" to declare God's Word!

As these things rolled over my mind, I began to weep for my country. A sense of responsibility began to fire my veins. Our generation will be receiving the baton. We will be obligated to make our choices in light of God's Word. Will we humble ourselves before God and pray? Will we seek His face? Will we turn from our wicked ways? If we do not, we call more judgement upon ourselves and our future children. But if we will do these things, by God's grace, then God will hear from heaven and heal our land. What will we do?

Whatever we do, we must not sleep.

My heart waketh. This is a happy sign. Life is not extinct, though sadly smothered. When our renewed heart struggles against our natural heaviness, we should be grateful to sovereign grace for keeping a little vitality within the body of this death. Jesus will hear our hearts, will help our hearts, will visit our hearts; for the voice of the wakeful heart is really the voice of our Beloved, saying, "Open to me." Holy zeal will surely unbar the door.

Thank You for the divine and merciful "thunder-clap", my Lord. You have answered my prayers, as well as those of dear friends and family. You have refreshed me with physical rest and have given me energy anew. You have also lifted me out of this valley. Let me ever rest in Christ, but let me slumber in spiritual lethargy no more.

There is a world that needs the Gospel.

By Your grace, I am awake and ready. What Kingdom work do You have for me today?

"Oh lovely attitude! He stands
With melting heart and laden hands;
My soul forsakes her every sin;
And lets the heavenly stranger in."

* Selections of text in lighter grey are taken from the evening's meditation for September 24th in Charles Spurgeon's Morning and Evening.