I couldn’t sleep last night. I spent a few hours lying in the dark, listening to the ceiling fan and wishing that I was alseep. I was tired. I was calm. I was ready to sleep: I’d donned my pajamas, had my cup of tea, brushed my teeth and crawled between the sheets with every intention of getting some much desired rest. My body didn’t want to cooperate with that plan. By 6:30am, I was standing in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal in the dark. Both the cereal (which I eat on rare occasions) and the lack of light attested to my weariness.
Ten years ago, I wouldn’t have thought much of missing a night’s sleep. Younger me had more energy. And nightmares. I didn’t know that His presence was with me always, even when the dark places were hidden from the rest of the world. I didn’t know that He was there. Even when my entire existence felt like a nightmare. Even when it seemed that brokenness and shame and panic filled every moment that I was awake. Even when days turned to weeks, weeks to months and months to years. I had many sleepless, hopeless nights.
Had. Past tense. I don’t just sleep peacefully these days either. No, I have peace. The beauty of redemption is that no portion of life remains untouched. I have peace for sleeping, peace for living, and even peace for the times I choose to eat cereal for breakfast. Knowing Jesus, really knowing Him, makes all the difference.
“I will both lie down in peace, and sleep; for You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.” Psalm 4:8