Once, my (then) three children and I spent the night in Houston with a friend of mine. She has a three-bedroom house, so that night, we made arrangements for her to sleep in her own room, her two girls to double up in one room, and me and my children to sleep in the third bedroom. She would have offered me more space—the living room couch, the futon in the family room—but I knew that my kids wouldn’t feel comfortable sleeping in wide-open areas without me right there. Plus, my then-two-and-a-half-year-old son would be able to get up and run rampant during the night. So, Amy and I dragged the futon mattress into the bedroom and set up the pack-n-play. I put my younger daughter, who had just turned one, in the pack-n-play, and my four-year-old daughter and my son shared the king-sized futon mattress on the floor. I slept in the twin bed.
Okay, maybe “slept” isn’t the right word. I did lie down and prepare to sleep—or at least, that’s what I hoped would happen. But the minute I lay down, Lindsey (the one-year-old) and Kenny began some sort of game that was halfway in between acting like Weebles and imitating Whack-a-Mole.
You remember Weebles, as in, “Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down”? You could push the Weeble over on its side, and the minute you let go, it would pop back up. And remember Whack-a-Mole, that arcade game where one mole pops up and you try to whack it back down with a hammer before the next one pops up? Well, I lay down to sleep, and Lindsey popped up in the pack-n-play, laughing. “Lie down, Lindsey,” I said. She would lie down, but the minute she did, Kenny would get up. “Lie down, Kenny,” I would say. He would lie down, and guess who would pop back up? (Thus, the combination of Weebles and Whack-a-Mole.)
This went on for about half an hour. By this time, I was considering all kinds of options I wouldn’t have considered just thirty minutes before. Benadryl? Didn’t bring any. Duct tape? Didn’t know if Amy had any. I finally decided just to wait them out. Eventually, they settled down, and I fell asleep. For a few minutes, at least.
I don’t know how long it was before I heard Kenny fussing. I could tell it was the kind of fussing he does when he is feeling anxious. “Kenny, lie down and go to sleep,” I said gently. Then, the next time, “Kenny, I’m right here. Shh.” Then the next time…well, I don’t remember all the things I said, because I must have reassured him, either verbally or by reaching down to touch him, at least three hundred forty-two times. Okay, maybe not that many, but surely at least twenty. Every time I spoke softly to him or touched him, he would calm down right away, and he’d be fine until the next time he woke up in a strange place and didn’t know where I was.
Has that ever happened to you in your spiritual life? Have you ever woken up in a strange place and wondered where God was? Or have you ever woken up just needing a little reassurance that He was still there—that He hadn’t abandoned you?
I have. And I bet you have, too.
We all need reassurance at times. Just like Kenny, feeling upset when he was out of his comfort zone, we get upset when we’re out of our comfort zones, too. What do we need during those times? The same thing Kenny needed. He didn’t need a lecture from me on why he shouldn’t be upset. He didn’t need harsh words from me, commanding him to deal with his feelings in a way he wasn’t capable of doing. He certainly didn’t need me to ignore his need. What he did need was my presence. He needed to hear me and to feel me, to know I was there with him. Only then could he feel secure enough to relax.
Friend, that’s what we need when it’s the middle of the night, spiritually speaking, and we’re upset and in a strange place. We need to call out to God and receive His response—to hear Him and feel Him. He may respond as a voice in our hearts, whispering comfort. He may respond by touch, using the arms of a dear friend to give us a hug. But He will respond. Just like I couldn’t hear Kenny’s need and ignore it, God will never ignore our need. When I heard Kenny fuss, truly upset, my desire was to reach out and minister to him. My heart wanted to help him. And God’s heart wants to help us, too.
But I never could have helped Kenny if I hadn’t known his need. If he had lain there, suffering in silence, I wouldn’t have known he was upset, and I wouldn’t have known to comfort him. Obviously, God knows our needs, whether or not we verbalize them to him. But when we reach out to God, we open our hearts to Him.
So the next time you wake up, and it’s dark, and you’re scared or upset, call out to God. He’s right there, even though you might not be able to see Him. Call out to Him, opening your heart to Him as you express your need. Receive His response to you. And then relax. He’s right there.
Jeremiah 29:12-14—Then you will call upon me, and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you, declares the Lord.