I awaken. It is still dark and very quiet. I look at the clock – 1:55 a.m. I, sigh, turn over, and snuggle down into the warmth of my bed, trying to return to sleep, but it evades me. My mind is at work, a left-over thought from yesterday, or a new one for today? I quiet my mind and try some tricks of relaxation… nothing. After a time, I roll over, look, again, at the clock — 2:12 a.m. I finally accept the fact that I am wide awake. To what purpose?
Somewhere in those 17 minutes of wakefulness my mind turns to Jesus in gratitude for just being Lord, or, perhaps, He can help me return to sleep. No, there is something else. I reach over, turn on the bed-side lamp — my day begins.
This little scenario happens pretty regularly with me, once or twice a week. It used to vex me, until I began to realize there was a purpose, there was a reason beyond my own understanding, and I needed to respond with an open, prayerful mind.
1:55 a.m. Good morning, Lord! Hmm, sounds a bit weird, doesn’t it? Let me assure you, it is not. Over time, I have come to understand that it is a privilege, it is a grace, it is a gift, and, yes, it is a pain. And, yet, I know there is a reason for my wakefulness.
Without exception, early mornings, lead me into the Word, into devotionals, into prayer-time, into my informal conversations with God. No exception, regardless of the time, each and every morning. The purpose? Now that changes each day, which, in itself, makes me grateful. Variety is a specialty of the Lord. Some days, after my time with God, I simply return to bed and peaceful sleep. Other days, with frequency, like right now, I seem to be led to write something, to put blessed thoughts on a blank page, and inspiration guides the choice of words.
For the past five or six years, since this routine began, I have used a simple prayer in those quiet times with the God: “What would you have me write, Lord?” Rarely, has He not responded with grace.
I’ve never thought of myself as an author. Still don’t. Yet, you may wonder about that if you consider the books, devotionals, essays that bear my name. If I took the idea of authorship, seriously, and boasted, I’d be a fraud. I know where those words come from and I am grateful beyond my ability to express it. I have spoken to my Lord about this, thanking Him with gratitude, and I can only imagine that He just smiles.
One final qualification. The writings that inspire, those are His. The other stuff? I’m just marking time, being patient, waiting on God.
I’m a scribe. I take dictation. I edit. My name goes on the bits of writing, but my “Thank You, Lord” goes to Him, where it belongs.
For What It’s Worth.
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