Rend Your Heart

Joel 2:12-13

"Even now," declares the LORD, "return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning."
Rend your heart and not your garments. Return to the LORD your God, for he is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love, and he relents from sending calamity.

As I sit this morning while Gideon naps, I have felt a distance from You. Certainly tennis camp made it hard to find a place to seek You, and Andrew's wedding was filled with time for family. It felt selfish to set aside time for You when I could spend it with a soon-to-be married brother, a twice-a-year seen sister from Colorado, and the rest of my beloved family. But two weeks without real discipline is too much, and our relationship has been strained by my doing. Consider this my love letter of apology.

Now I'm not worried about Your punishment yet, no, I'm worried about our love. I don't like to see us grow cold, for me to lose sight of Your presence, for our hearts to be distant. And so I have wondered to myself and to You, "What do I do to repair the strain?"

And Lord, my love, You never fail to answer when I seek with sincerity. "Return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning. Rend your heart..." Again, You wish to see me seek and follow with truth and sincerity. My heart is broken for the damage I've done, and sometimes the wounds become callous and it seems to overwhelming to pick them open and wade through them. But my Lord of Renewal, You are a healer. So deep the wounds might be that I have caused You with my silence, but You are gracious and abounding in love. Receive my heart-broken apology.

Now, my son will soon call, and I will leave this place of peace with You. But do not let peace leave me. Do not take Your spirit away. Continue to give, and in the way that I respond; to Gideon, to Courtney, to strangers, I will give because of You. Help me to remember that.

Love,
Matthew.

A Prayer for Solitude

Lord God, my Father and Sustainer...

In the summer we drift,
more accurately, I drift.
In a busyness season,
I am surrounded with
those I love and those
I am obligated to.
Weddings and camps,
anniversaries and baby-sitting,
late nights because I can sleep in,
difficulty getting up because I
sleep next to the most beautiful
women you've yet made.
I've stayed interested,
but I've wandering commitment.
When I'm in rhythm,
You fit into all the cracks,
You fill the freedom of Gideon's naps,
the preps when I relax.
When I'm out of practice,
I'd rather read about You.
I'd rather long to be with You
than actually be with You.
So, Lord of Renewal,
what can renew? I'm now
allowing myself to desire to,
where can I find You?
Draw me away for some time,
allow me peace where inside
I find a drink under this summer,
the refreshment of loneliness.