Starving, I answered. I am starving spiritually, the words tumbled out of my mouth as if compelled by forces unseen.

My seminary professor, who had just spoken in the weekly chapel service, warmly greeted me and asked how I was doing . . . and that was my reply, followed by a flood of hidden emotions I didn’t know were bubbling beneath the surface.

Or maybe I did know, and they were the reason behind my going. Returning on a cold, wet February morning to a place I am drawn to from time to time. Just being in the hallowed halls, stopping by the calm gurgling waters among limestone rocks where I sat so many times during my years of study there, and entering the simple beauty of the chapel had opened the floodgates of my soul.

My parched soul. My weary soul. My longing soul.

Yet by my simple act of putting that particular service onto my calendar and making time to go, I found myself drawn into the presence of the Lord in a way depleted by months of busyness, leadership of a taxing ministry, and chronic pain.

Afterwards, I remained in the chapel for a time of respite. A time of infilling. A time seeking the presence of my God whom I was hungering and thirsting after.

Life has a way of choking out the good news, the love and drawing in of our Savior.

Pain has a way of wearing down trust, and hope.

The searing needs among hundreds of impoverished children in our city is a load that wears. One that I cannot, must not attempt to carry alone.

I must not and yet, I confess I have run ahead of my Lord way too often over the past few months.

I confess I have been angry, frustrated, overwhelmed more often than I have taken my stand on the One who loves the children more than I ever could. The One who gives strength where He gives vision. The One who will direct my steps.

The One who goes before, calling come. Follow me. Take action in Kingdom work. But do it by my Spirit, in my way, in my time.

Therefore, we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond comparison. While we look not at the things which are seen but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal.

2 Corinthians 4: 16-18

Today, I am not as full as I’d like to be, but I am no longer starving.