We have been contemplating a new home, in the country, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. We found a far out place, though within walking distance to friends. Exciting possibilities flood my mind. Quiet evenings in the pitch black. Days spent watching cabbage moths, illuminating the fields like fireflies. Listening to the wind rustling the trees on the hill above the house.
Set in opposition to these serene scenes imagined are stark practicalities. How do we ready our home for sale? How do we secure financing? Are we making the right choice, for ourselves and for the great commission?
These thoughts, good and bad, flood my consciousness and crowd out God. I have been feeling dry. My quiet times have lost their passion this week. My prayers seem wooden. Though I am disciplined in practicing spiritual disciplines, my emotional desire is fleeting. I think tonight, finally, I recognized that it is a matter of misplaced priorities. Though moving may be good and right, it does not...must not...replace what is truly good and right.
We will continue to prepare for a move to God knows where, but I earnestly pray that I regain the passion for God that feels absent this week. He alone is the living water that can water my dry and weary soul.
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