Sarah was at the end of her rope. She couldn't seem to do anything right. She couldn't keep a husband. She couldn't hold down a job. It was a wonder her 6 month old baby was still alive.
She dropped her head into her hands as the city bus rumbled and accelerated around a corner. She pictured her precious baby Monica reaching up to her from her crib. She pictured baby Monica crying, completely helpless, hungry and needy. Desperate for love and rescue. Unable to crawl to her, much less get over the bar in the crib.
Nothing could keep Sarah from going to her baby when those arms reached up toward her.
Sarah had at least gotten a sitter for a few hours tonight. She needed some time with God. She finally got to the church and slipped into the back of the Wednesday night service. They were still worshipping. Some were sitting. A couple were standing. Up front there was just a man at a guitar and a woman singing.
Sarah put her head in her hands again and tried to pray, "God..." Then she shifted frustratedly and huffed. "I don't even know how to pray! Help me. I don't even know how to come to you."
She heard a rustle a few rows in front of her and she glanced up. An old, hunched woman stood up slowly and raised up her hands as far as they could reach in worship.
Immediately the image of her precious baby Monica flashed in Sarah's mind. Hands reaching over the rail of the crib, desperate to be held, signaling for her mommy to come because she was not big enough to go to her.
Sarah felt herself rising to her feet. Then she felt her hands lifting. She was the little baby reaching up to her God. She mouthed the prayer, "God, I don't know how to come to you. Please just come to me."
Next time when you are trying to worship, and you just don't know how to get into it, perhaps you can think of yourself like a baby desperate for its mother.
Raw Spoon. 12-10-2020