Have you ever stopped taking a medication prematurely because your symptoms abated only to have them return?
This happened to me recently. As I thought about it I was reminded of the spiritual correlation. And then a whisper blew across my heart:
I’m your medicine.
Jesus. My medicine. The only One who truly cures my soul sickness…discontent, insecurity and selfishness.
Jesus. His nearness comforts my heart, calms my soul and stabilizes my emotions.
Jesus. Early mornings before I begin as wife and mother.
Jesus. Early when birds are singing and the sun has barely revealed itself.
Jesus. In this place and time I fight against…hope to find in some other way with a hundred excuses.
And I can’t. Not this way…
Jesus is my medicine. And when I don’t take in my dose of Him my symptoms return…passion atrophied. When I continue to pull at Him, attempting to lead I wear myself down.
Fight complacency. Fight apathy. Fight atrophy.
He never leaves me. He’s always available. But what I need more than oxygen is intimacy and abiding nearness but it does not come like change…spare and leftover.
What I need is an infusion. And this means being still, settling down and coming early, before distractions and responsibilities ensue.
But oh how I love You. Long to feel Your hand on my brow. Your love and hope spilling out onto my children and husband and the world around me. You are still in the place I left You. An old, worn rocker. This place where I can only be. Just be.
Be still. Be myself. Be honest. Be quiet.
Jesus, You are my medicine.