Every Hour I Need Thee
This week has been an bit of a heavy one for me. There are some very big things happening around us in the midst of some very big transitions. Some of those "big things" will be the material for future blog posts, but not tonight's. Some of them won't feel as big in hindsight. In the midst of it, though, I've been left feeling very small, very heavy-hearted, very desperate for wisdom. Each day has been so full of intentional prayer, a deliberate search for wisdom, an earnestness to know and follow hard after God's heart in the midst of it all that I fall into bed, exhausted, at night. It gathers up around me so that I feel very helpless and insignificant in the face of it all.
This afternoon, as I was struggling hard with discouragement, a friend sent me a message to see how I was doing. I admitted that I was feeling frayed and explained a little bit of it to her. She wrote back and said it was unusual, but she had almost HEARD God ask her to write me.
I cried. I am small. I am insignificant. But in spite of it, here was a small (it never feels so small!) reminder that God was listening, and that he wouldn't leave me to struggle alone. I sat down on the living room floor and cried over everything that's felt so up in the air this week. I went over each situation that's left me so desperate for wisdom. And then I prayed, sobbed, "Please don't leave me! Please don't leave me, God, not even for a moment. I need you like I've never needed you. Every hour--every minute--I can't do this without your wisdom, without your presence with every breath. Oh, I need you."
I've never prayed a prayer like that. I've never breathed with that kind of need for him in my life. It's not that everything is turned upside down. I'm nowhere near rock bottom. But I am aware, more aware than I've ever been, of my own fallibility at every hour. It's an awful, amazing place to be!
As I sat on my floor, the words to the old hymn came to mind:
I need thee every hour, most gracious Lord;
no tender voice like thine can peace afford.
I need thee, O I need thee; every hour I need thee;
O bless me now, my Savior, I come to thee.
I need thee every hour; stay thou nearby;
temptations lose their power when thou art nigh.
I need thee every hour; teach me thy will;
and thy rich promises in me fulfill.
This afternoon, as I was struggling hard with discouragement, a friend sent me a message to see how I was doing. I admitted that I was feeling frayed and explained a little bit of it to her. She wrote back and said it was unusual, but she had almost HEARD God ask her to write me.
I cried. I am small. I am insignificant. But in spite of it, here was a small (it never feels so small!) reminder that God was listening, and that he wouldn't leave me to struggle alone. I sat down on the living room floor and cried over everything that's felt so up in the air this week. I went over each situation that's left me so desperate for wisdom. And then I prayed, sobbed, "Please don't leave me! Please don't leave me, God, not even for a moment. I need you like I've never needed you. Every hour--every minute--I can't do this without your wisdom, without your presence with every breath. Oh, I need you."
I've never prayed a prayer like that. I've never breathed with that kind of need for him in my life. It's not that everything is turned upside down. I'm nowhere near rock bottom. But I am aware, more aware than I've ever been, of my own fallibility at every hour. It's an awful, amazing place to be!
As I sat on my floor, the words to the old hymn came to mind:
I need thee every hour, most gracious Lord;
no tender voice like thine can peace afford.
I need thee, O I need thee; every hour I need thee;
O bless me now, my Savior, I come to thee.
I need thee every hour; stay thou nearby;
temptations lose their power when thou art nigh.
I need thee every hour; teach me thy will;
and thy rich promises in me fulfill.
