Wrung out Lord.  Wasted, even my appetite gone, the will to defend my position dwindling, I look to the hills from whence my rest comes.  In charge of nothing, answering to no one, owing no one, loving all and listening, the closest moment to freedom for any man.  Listening to your breeze bristling past my wristwatch, my hands folded, head down, trying not itch the wounds soon to become scar.  Not hopeless, not helpless, not victim wishing for some release from circumstance.  Just a man, serving God, knowing that in this one I gave it all and made it back because He gave me the rest.  It is a tearful event to realize when tested you remembered.  A relaxing day following the time that you truly believed and it was captured for all to witness.  Certainly there were a straggling view who had awful things to offer, but that is what comes from poisoned wells.  As for me and my house we will serve the Lord our God.

Lumps along the length of my tongue make it hard to swallow and even funnier to smile or sing.  Dashing would have been my reindeer handle as I slalomed through each cactus gate, looking down to challenged footing, I got lost in the race even to the loss of time and space.  Bumpy brow they call me now, good those things couldn’t penetrate high grade titanium.  I sit here now content at the foot of your throne, looking down, for my eyes are not worthy to look upon even the feet of you, my Holy God.  Then I remember how much you’ve loved me and the memories remind me of the smells in Mom’s Kitchen, the gasoline garage, king of the hill and my cousin Bill.  Lord, if it’s okay with you I just want to sit here for a while dressed in the white robe you’ve provided.  Clean, unencumbered, empty, except for the love in my heart for you and for them and the memories that you will allow me hang on to.  For now it is good to be at rest.

When tomorrow comes you’ll have to wake me, for I would rather stay here and continue this conversation, but you won’t have to spur me onward.  I will be ready to go Father, for these words, the same of my Brother Isaiah will be fresh upon my lips, “Here I am Lord, send me, send me”.  I don’t know what is next Lord, but I am your man, warrior, priest and prince and will armor up as dawn bids me set forth toward the sun.  But this is what I craved when upon battle’s field, my rest, my peace, hope and refueling only found in Your Mighty Presence.  May I rest my head upon Your sandaled foot and slumber til the morrow, knowing that my head touches the mighty heal of God.  Thank you for once again bringing me through the trial and delivering me when I had given all.  There is no trial beyond my completion within the Hands of God.  And that proud day when I am rewarded with the greatest gift a faithful man may reason.  Then will I take off my warriors garb at last and take my place within the Body Worship to sing my new song before the throne of God.  In Jesus’ Name.