A Confession of Unrest

A friend just sent this. It could not have come at a better time.

Prayer When Words Won’t Come

O My Father, I have moments of deep unrest—moments when I know not what to ask by reason of the very excess of my wants. I have in these hours no words for Thee, no conscious prayers for Thee. My cry seems purely worldly; I want only the wings of a dove that I may flee away. Yet all the time Thou has accepted my unrest as a prayer. Thou has interpreted its cry for a dove’s wings as a cry for Thee. Thou has received the nameless longings of my heart as the intercessions of Thy Spirit. They are not yet the intercessions of my spirit; I know not what to ask. But thou knowest what I ask, O My God. Thou knowest the name of that need which lies beneath my speechless groan. Thou knowest that, because I am made in Thine image, I can find rest only in what gives rest to Thee; therefore Thou hast counted my unrest unto me for righteousness, and has called my groaning Thy spirit’s prayer. Amen.
-Rev. George Matheson (1842-1906)

All for now (I think),
Lisa