I have grown so tired.

Well-meaning people have told me to take a holiday.
But mostly, I believe, I am weary of me,
and, try as I might, I cannot escape this being.

I searched my heart and thoughts before Lent
for something meaningful from which to abstain
(this now a seemingly important ritual in our faith community),
but nothing came.
And finally I heard . . .
“Give up.”
Assuming “up” was followed by an ellipsis,
I waited.
Then I heard again,
“Give up.”
Period. Full-stop. The end.
“Give up.”

I am not one to relinquish.
I clutch so tightly my knuckles are taut and white.
Even my toes have been clenching Terra Firma.

“Give up.”

Like Jacob, I grab and hold.
I want answers.  I want a blessing. I won’t let go.
Listen to me!  Answer me! I won’t let go.

“Give up.”

But I know now that God can out wait me.
I rant and rave and weep and plead.
But the word is constant.

“Give up.”

David’s servants were afraid to give him the news.
“If he is this crazy while the child lives,
what will he do when he learns the child has died?”
David lets go.

Please, please, please, please, please;
till there are no more please’s.
Why, why, why, why, why;
till there are no more why’s.

And I am broken.

And I give up.

There is no contest against God.
He gets his way.
He doesn’t have to explain himself.
And I am tired of vindicating a God who needs no defense.

I don’t know why.
I don’t understand.
And I don’t even care about having ‘answers’ anymore.

Because only he can be
and only he is
the answer.

And he is more than enough.

“Give up.”