Have you ever sat in a waiting room and watched the second hand while your heart pleaded for time to move faster? Desperate for the door to open and the doctor to say your name and tell you it’s all okay.



I feel like that’s been an overarching theme in my life recently. Living in a constant state of desperation. And as miserable as that may sound, it’s been the best place for me.

Desperate for Him to take control.

Desperate for Him to speak peace into my soul.

Desperate for Him to show up.

Desperate for Him to calm my anxious heart.

Desperate for Him to heal.

Desperate for Him to mend.

In the midst of desperation, I have learned that He is so much more when I come to Him desperate.

Or rather, I let Him be so much more to me. When there is too much emptiness to fill, when there is too much brokenness for me too mend, when my only option is to come to Him desperate…I find more satisfaction in the midst of the desperation.

I’m desperately grasping at His grace.

I’m desperately grasping at His healing mercies.

I’m desperately clinging to His word and truth.

I’m desperately clinging to any trace of Him I can find.

And then the sweet, ancient, waiting room attendant walks in and tells me not to worry because the fact that its taking longer than planned may just mean that more is wrong than they originally thought. And I smile hopefully because desperate belief that God is good is all I have to cling too.

My point is, in the midst of desperation, God and His character, and His goodness have come more real, and more bold and more rich than I ever could have asked or imagined.

I find myself knowing Him better in the midst of desperation than I would have known Him otherwise.

And for that, I am so grateful.

As a deer pants for flowing streams,
   so pants my soul for you, O God.
My soul thirsts for God,
   for the living God.

Psalm 42:1-2




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