The Last of a Long Line

Our human condition has an amazingly innate resistance to the idea that time does, in fact, pass. Anything difficult seems that it will last forever despite repeated assurances (even from yourself and to yourself) that "this too shall pass".

So tonight is the last of my night shifts, and tomorrow I start back on days for the next several months. Rachel has been doing all she can to spur me on to endurance, but I've still felt it dragging. Now, at the end, "good riddance" is definitely the prevailing thought. However, I did find some unexpected encouragement this morning in the Psalms (#134):

"Praise the Lord, you servants of the Lord, who minister by night in the house of the Lord. Lift up your hands in the sanctuary and praise the Lord. May the Lord, who made heaven and earth, bless you from Zion."

As Eugene Peterson asserts, if worship was ever to be slovenly, it would be by the priests at 3 a.m. And maybe our hearts will be sagging, and maybe we can't help that, but we do have control of our limbs, so raise your hands and praise the Lord.