How weary a people we have become. With what, we can’t always be sure, for it changes like the wind. For reasons admirable or selfish, our bones tire and our legs grow faint and we struggle to walk.
Young though we be, we fall exhausted, and with great frailty and little power or strength to sustain, we ponder the wisdom of God in the seeming distance. Not knowing, that if we wait. Wait.
We will find his strength to be so near that it rushes through our veins and invigorates our muscles and compels us forward and give us wings to soar.
This is our God. He does not faint or grow weary.
Or does he? Can he?
Oh the thought that he himself might grow weary of our failings. Weary of our weariness. Weary of the laughable thought that we could possibly be wearied of him. As though we could rightly complain about the worship he deserves and we refuse to give.
Yes, in a sick twist of irony, our sin of wearying wearies an un-weary-able God.
Not so sure? Read Isaiah 40:28-31 and 43:22-24.
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