Weary

Over the last week, I've witnessed a couple of instances of people struggling with some really tough times and some simply struggling with the cards life has dealt them. For instance, there is a girl at our church who has been crippled with MS since birth. She's able to get around with a walker, but it leaves her exhausted. Getting dressed to go somewhere is a two hour ordeal. She lives a life that would leave most of us bent and in tears if we had to endure just one day of it.

Lauren and I visited a shelter for the homeless this weekend. Eighty plus homeless men and a handful of women crowded into an old fire house to get their one meal for the weekend. These are the real social rejects. No one looks them in the eye or much less offers a hello or a smile. They've long since felt human. They deal daily with the results of whatever led them to this path. (I myself recognize that we've all taken the wrong path in life, but some of us are lucky enough to have avoided any real consequences with lifelong implications).

Lastly, a friend lost her husband nearly one week ago today. He was in his mid 30's and died due to an epileptic seizure. She was there and tried to save him by performing mouth to mouth on him. I can't imagine the pain of watching a loved one die in your hands, nor the uncertainty of what tomorrow might bring. There are so many questions.

This world, this life, that we are in is a broken mess. We're in a constant battle. There will always be pain, hurt, misunderstandings, and loss. Why does it have to be like this? When will there be rest?
I ran across this last night, and I wanted to share it with you. It reminds us of the promise of the peace that awaits us. You can find rest in this.

From the Gadsby Hymnal:

Weary of earth, myself, and sin
Dear Jesus, set me free,
And to Thy glory take me in,
For there I long to be.

Let a poor laborer here below,
When from his toil set free;
To rest and peace eternal go;
For there I long to be.

Burdened, dejected and oppressed,
Ah! Whither shall I flee,
But to Thy arms for peace and rest?
For there I long to be.

Let a poor laborer here below,
When from his toil set free;
To rest and peace eternal go;
For there I long to be.

Empty, polluted, dark and vain,
Is all this world to me;
May I the better world obtain;
For there I long to be.

Let a poor laborer here below,
When from his toil set free;
To rest and peace eternal go;
For there I long to be.