sleep | All is Well

The Snake-Crusher

June 26, 2016 By Shelly Durkee

Funny, that after writing a post about sleep, and its importance as a spiritual discipline, I find myself awake at 4:30 am, writing this post.

I was awakened in middle of the night tonight, and unable to go back to sleep, so after doing some other reading, I grabbed this book (The Biggest Story by Kevin DeYoung) that I picked up at TGCW16. I had read a couple of reviews on it prior to buying it, and even had downloaded some artwork from it, to use as wallpaper on my laptop. I actually bought it because some day my crew will have kids of their own, and I wanted a copy to give to them.

I’m a bit taken aback, though, at the experience of reading this here in the middle of this night.

As expected, the illustrations were phenomenal. Striking. I probably spent as much time looking at the pictures as I did reading the words.

But the words were not nothing, either.

At first, I was surprised to find myself a bit ramped up in reading them. In this very broad overview of the entire scope of the Bible, my mind started down the path of questions—why this way? Why did God choose this route? If He foreknew that this was how we would respond–disobedience, rebellion, sin–why even create us, only to have us sin and disappoint, and even anger, Him? How does any of this make any sense?

This was definitely not what I expected when I picked up this children’s book–I did not expect my brain to go there. It’s a children’s book. It shouldn’t have that strong of an impact on me.

But it did, and about 3/4 of the way through the book, I just nearly quit reading it. But I’m glad I didn’t, because in the end was the hope that I knew would be there, that I knew I would find in the end, because I know how the story goes, but sometimes I forget. Sometimes–not often, but sometimes, the questions and doubts and middle-of-the-night fears get the best of me. I know they shouldn’t, but they do. And, sometimes I need to see actual words that spell out the hope.

Pg. 106:

“We break promises, so God keeps His.
We run from God, so He comes to us.
We suffer for sin, so the Savior suffers for us.

“Our story is the story of God doing what we can’t, in order to make up for us doing what we shouldn’t….things fall apart so they can come together….(pg. 107)

“The Snake Crusher is coming back again to wipe away all the bad guys and wipe away every tear. .He’s coming to give us the home we once had and might have forgotten that we lost…..So keep waiting for Him. Keep believing in Him. Keep trusting that the story isn’t over yet….the Promised One never disappoints.” (pg 123)

Whew. Not nothing. Especially in the middle of the night.

There will be a day.

To Sleep (As a Spiritual Discipline)

June 26, 2016 By Shelly Durkee

I slept 11 straight hours last night.

11. Hours.

For those that know me well, they will know that such an occurrence is a rare thing.

And yet, even with all that sleep last night, I find myself weary tonight.

It’s been a busy 5 weeks. Two trips to New York. One trip to LA. One trip to Indianapolis. So many meetings. So many late nights and early mornings. Too many dinners out. Not enough exercise. And a hurt foot through all of it.

Some of it has been very, very good. I had a wonderful time taking my oldest girl with me, on my LA work trip. And my time in Indianapolis, at The Gospel Coalition’s conference, was incredible. And, I hit Silver status on Delta, so maybe I’ll score some free upgrades over the next year and a half.

But I am beyond tired.

And I think my brain and body said “Enough!” last night. Which landed me 11 hours of uninterrupted sleep.

I find sleep to be such a difficult thing. I’ve suffered from nightmares for so many years, that I’ve trained myself to function on little to no sleep. 5 hours of sleep, for me, is more than adequate, and is what I consider a successful night.

But tonight I am reminded of the first time I heard this concept: Sleep is a spiritual discipline.

When my friend first told me that sleep was a spiritual discipline, I thought they were crazy. Spiritual disciplines are things such as reading your Bible, praying, memorizing scripture, fasting…..where does sleep fit in to any of that?

But it does. I just didn’t know it then.

And, I’m still learning how it does, today.

It’s not an easy thing to grasp.

However, here is where I am trying to land, in regards to sleep (bear with me, I’ll get there):

Reading and memorizing scripture is an act of faith–we who are Christ-followers do so out of faith that what we are reading, is truth
Praying is an act of faith–we who are Christ-followers do so out of faith that we are heard by God
Sleep is an act of faith–we who are Christ-followers do so out of faith that God sees, knows, protects and sustains us

Where does this idea come from?

It’s Psalm 4:8~

In peace I will both lie down and sleep;
for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.

It’s Psalm 127:2~

It is in vain that you rise up early
and go late to rest,
eating the bread of anxious toil;
for he gives to his beloved sleep.

It’s Proverbs 3:24~

If you lie down, you will not be afraid;
when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet.

And, oh my soul, it is Psalm 3:5~

I lay down and slept;
I woke again, for the Lord sustained me.

You see, my friends, it is a spiritual discipline, because it is an act of trust and faith that the God of the universe, who sometimes seems so near and yet other times seems so far away, is–regardless of our ability to sense His nearness or not–very present, even when we sleep. It’s an act of laying down and, in essence, saying,

“God, this day contained both joy and grief. Or, maybe it contained only one or the other: Joy or Grief. Regardless, the night has come, and you have created us as creatures that require a time of sleep–for our health, for our minds, for our souls.

So I will set aside the things that trouble me; the thoughts that plague me, the scenes that haunt me, and I will trust that you are the God who never sleeps. I will trust that Psalm 121:3, is truth:

He will not let your foot be moved;
he who keeps you will not slumber.

And God, in sleeping, help me to trust you.”

Not always an easy thing to do. I know that full well. I live the difficulty of that almost every single night, as my mind fights of sleep like a 2-year old who doesn’t want to nap. They fight, though, because they don’t want to miss something. My mind fights because it fears the night, and the potential nightmares it may hold.

But here is what I am learning. Slowly. God will–and does–sustain me. Even in the toughest nights, He sustains me. He does not abandon, even if I do not sense His presence completely. Even if I am awakened, frightened. Or if I am anxious. Or worried.

It’s ok to sleep, because God grants sleep to His beloved, as both a rest to renew and an avenue to trust Him.

So, while I was a bit disconcerted after my 11-hour, highly unusual slumber last night, tonight I am grateful for it. And I am reminded that, during those 11 hours, He did not abandon. He sustained me. And that sleep allowed me to be able to do all the many, many things that I needed to do today–participate in daily spiritual disciplines, spend time with my kids, unpack, clean house, do laundry, study, mow the yard, and catch up from this busy month.

And yet another reason to practice the spiritual discipline of sleep, is it is a weapon to battle doubt. I like this quote from D.A. Carson, from his book Scandalous, because I know this is true, for me; lack of sleep exacerbates cynicism and doubt in my mind and soul:

Doubt may be fostered by sleep deprivation. If you keep burning the candle at both ends, sooner or later you will indulge in more and more mean cynicism—and the line between cynicism and doubt is a very thin one. Of course, different individuals require different numbers of hours of sleep: moreover, some cope with a bit of tiredness better than others. Nevertheless, if you are among those who become nasty, cynical, or even full of doubt when you are missing your sleep, you are morally obligated to try to get the sleep you need. We are whole, complicated beings; our physical existence is tied to our spiritual well-being, to our mental outlook, to our relationships with others, including our relationship with God. Sometimes the godliest thing you can do in the universe is get a good night’s sleep—not pray all night, but sleep. I’m certainly not denying that there may be a place for praying all night; I’m merely insisting that in the normal course of things, spiritual discipline obligates you get the sleep your body need. (Scandalous, 147)

So true.

God. Please let our sleep, be sweet.

God is Awake ~ A Prayer

November 11, 2015 By Shelly Durkee

We are weary, O God.

You are the God who does not sleep. We are taught that, in Psalms. We read these words, in Psalm 121:

My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.

³He will not let your foot be moved;
he who keeps you will not slumber.
⁴Behold, he who keeps Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

You are the God who does not sleep, and we are those who need sleep. But sometimes–sometimes sleep does not come. Or it is interrupted by worry, or fears, or nightmares.

And, when those nights come (why are there so many of such nights?), there is comfort in knowing that you do not sleep.

You are there
you are watchful
you are present
you are the God who sees
you are the God who knows

….even in–or, maybe, especially in–these sleepless nights.

And we are grateful for that. We are thankful and comforted.

But yet, we are still weary, when the days are long, and the work is immense, and the needs of those around us are great, and the responsibilities are pressing, and the meetings are long, and the nights are so, so short.

We are tired.

And yet, you declare in the words of Isaiah 40, that You who does not grow faint or weary, will infuse us with power and strength. Power to the faint, and strength to the weak.

Power, to stand fast.

Strength, to press forward.

We need both, God. I need both.

We need the power to stand fast, in you.

And strength to press forward, toward you.

And sometimes I find myself frustrated by the words here, in Isaiah 40. The whole picturesque, cross-stitch idea of “soaring with wings as eagles” and “running without growing weary”–these things promised to the one that “waits upon the Lord.”

And, I suppose, that’s on me, God. My frustration–my cynicism–is unfair. Sinful, even.

But I also know that the nights are short, the days are long, and my ability to “wait on the Lord”–to wait on You–wanes in those moments. And I don’t want some well-meaning, supposedly-encouraging coffee mug with an eagle painted on the side of it and these Isaiah 40 words, and a words of how strong I am and inspiring it all is. Those things turn my stomach.

No. I want you God. I need You.

I don’t want to soar like some majestic eagle….I just want sleep. And the ability to wake up tomorrow and do the things I am called to do.

And I want to sense that you are real, that you know me, that you are here.

But perhaps I am reading this wrong. Perhaps my connotation of “waiting” on You is wrong. Maybe–maybe to “wait” on You is not so much waiting for you to fix what keeps me up at night, but rather resting in You in the midst of what keeps me up at night.

Trusting You, in those dark, middle-of-the-night hours.

Trusting You, in these long days.

Victor Hugo had it right, maybe. He wrote this:

“Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones; and when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. God is awake.” ~ Hugo

So God, tonight we pray thus:

Give us courage for the great sorrows of life.

Give us patience for the small ones.

Help us to work diligently to accomplish our daily tasks, whether in our jobs, in our families, in our responsibilities, in our care for others.

And help us to lie down at know, in peace, knowing that you are awake.

And that You are Emmanuel, God with us; the God that does not sleep.

Psalm 127:2 ~ He gives to His beloved sleep.

Salve and Salvation

August 5, 2015 By Shelly Durkee

In Psalm 139, God, we are reminded that you search us. Know us. You know our thoughts.

You know when we sit. When we arise. When we sleep.

And, when we are roughly awakened and sleep does not return.

And, while it can be a bit disconcerting that nothing is hidden from you, there is also great relief in that as well.

Because nothing is hidden from you, there is no need to hide from you.

No need to hide our fear. Our worry. Our discouragements. Our sins. Our confusion. Our doubts. Our home-longings. No need to hide our pull to run; our pull to old ways of finding salve for the these middle-of-the-night-sleep-robbing things.

No need to hide any of these, because you already know.

So, because you are the very same God as the God of Exodus 2:25; the God who sees and knows–and acts–there is no need to sit here amidst these mosquitoes on the deck getting fresh air, or in the hospital room beside our loved one who will soon see you face-to-face, or at a sick child’s bedside, or in an office pulling an all-nighter, or on the floor at the altar of an empty sanctuary, or wherever our anxious soul finds ourselves–there is no need to sit here and tell you these things, because you know.

But, sometimes God, we voice them to you anyway, because that seems to be a small part of what prayer is.

Or, we mull over these things that keep us up–that unsettle our souls and minds, because our brains can’t seem to not mull over them. Or we relive them in our nightmares. But there are prayer elements in those incidents as well, even if unconsciously. Because you know our thoughts.

And, in those moments–in these moments—we need you; implore you; to prompt us to seek out the familiarity of what we know to be truth. Not platitudes. Not clichés. Not panic. Not the pull to things that temporary numb the sharpness of the night.

No, instead–push us toward the truth of Your word, God. Because the truth of scripture points us to the truth of who You are. And, that is where we find both salve and salvation:

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
    I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
    your rod and your staff,
    they comfort me. (Psalm 23:4)