ordinary sacred

I had an “oh, Jesus” sort of day today. That’s one of those days when something deep inside churns and the only words I find, the only prayer I hear from the depths of my soul is two words: “Oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus.”

It’s one of those days when I try to find other words to figure out what’s going on, but there are no other words except these two: Oh, Jesus… oh, Jesus.  Groans really. From somewhere so mysterious that even I can’t quite grasp it. Oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus.

My exhausted son finally in bed and only then the “oh Jesus” yields tears, just small ones and not for long and still unexplained. Some days just feel heavy. Not dark, not agonizing, not depressing. Nothing happened to us. It was just an “oh, Jesus” kind of day. A heavy day. A day when I feel a longing, the calling of the deep from inside.

Deep calls to deep. The Spirit groans on our behalf. These truths come to mind. In ways I don’t know or understand or sometimes even want. And the only words, the only prayer, is “oh Jesus.”

Some days the longing of the heart is a tug that won’t be shaken. The words of the song All Praise to You by All Sons and Daughters grips hard tonight, trying to find a place in the ache of the heavy.

Here our cries,                                                                                                            Lord Come shake these walls                                                                                          Oh, and rattle the steeples                                                                                               We are your people

The scripture writers may have lived with the ache, the longing that gripped at them some moments. Not dark, not depressed, but heavy. Heavy days. And they too may have struggled with words, as they longed for Jesus, longed for his return, longed for him to come, come back, come again. And so they spoke one word maranatha.

Come. Come, Lord Jesus.

The deep is calling. The Spirit groans. Oh, Jesus, oh Jesus.

Come.