Pushing Past All Else

I've been struggling lately with recognizing the voice of God. Things have been difficult at work, which have made the addition of all other things (ministry commitments, being there for loved ones, even friends' birthdays) feel like too much. Sometimes I want to throw my head back and shout, "Why is everyone just using me?!" 

I want to want what God wants, but it's hard when you're not altogether sure what it is that he wants for you. Sometimes it's hard to sort out God's voice from all the other voices: the voices of friends, the voices of leaders, your own voice, and even the voice of the enemy. When I feel unsure, I tend to go with what I know my leaders want me to choose. But that doesn't mean my heart is at peace with it; it just means I'm trying to be obedient when I feel unclear. I'm not sure if that's the way to go always, because it so often leads me to feel overly tired and used up. 

I want to walk in his strength, which is so much greater than mine, but sometimes I don't know what that means. I start to believe that God just takes joy from me being tired and used, even though I know that this is not truth. I have to keep holding on to what I know is truth: he loves me. His plans for me are to bless me and not to curse me. 

Today I realized that people sometimes gather around my desk when things get tough and frustrating. I realized that it's an opportunity staring me right in the face like Rachel had prayed over me a couple weeks ago, an opportunity for my words to drip with the Holy Spirit—with encouragement and comfort and resounding truth—rather than with resentment and complaining and anger. Even though things don't always make sense, though the sense of justice in me feels riled up, though my flesh wants to lash out or break down in tears, I have a great high priest whose name is Love, who ever lives and pleads for me. I choose him.


Before the throne of God above
I have a strong, a perfect plea:
A great High Priest, whose name is Love,
Who ever lives and pleads for me.

My name is graven on his hands,
My name is written on his heart;
I know that while in heaven he stands
No tongue can bid me thence depart
No tongue can bid me thence depart.

When Satan tempts me to despair,
And tells me of the guilt within,
Upward I look, and see him there
Who made an end of all my sin.