weary

The house is silent and still
but my heart is not.
The chaotic evidence of life, once ruling floors, tables, couches, counters,
now subdued, now conquered;
yet my heart
has eluded capture,
has dodged detention,
has evaded the preferable prison of Peace.

I know You have woven rest into the rhythm of life.
But I am restless,
disturbed by demands,
Ungrateful for unceasing dictates from those under my care.

I am weary, Lord.
Weary, once again.

Weary to the point of wanting nothing.
Nothing at all.
Or so my heart deceives me.
So weary, that I contemplate servitude
to the master of ME.
I have served her before and found her incessance
more tiresome than my tasks.

Why do I rage against the very thing I know I need the most?
Why not exchange my weighty parcel of monotony from the mundane
for refreshment from your Righteousness?

I am most free when shackled by Your Truth.

Yoked by Your gentleness and humility,
desirable beyond description,
I drink from the Water that breathes Life.
And in that simple act of surrender,
Acknowledging my thirst,
I find my weariness displaced by the weight of Grace,
My striving, sanctified by serenity.

Gratitude engulfs me in a wave of rest.
I am still.
You are God.

Mariposa

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
- Jesus Christ, Matthew 11:28