Awake O Sleeper

by cobaltandrising

It has been a year of waking.  A not-easy one.  A not-at-all fun one. But from the last August 18th to this August 18th, God has been in the business of waking me up.  And while I may feel like my soul’s eyes are now wide open, it’s quite possible that they’re only half-cracked and there is much, much more to come.

Over the last couple of years, I had asked God—sometimes half-heartedly, sometimes full on—for a simpler life.  (Note to self: take care in what you ask of your Creator. He who “never sleeps, never slumbers” is always listening, moving, working, raising his purpose out of the lives of sleepers like you and me.)

He answered my query by removing, piece by painful piece, all that complicated my ability to truly see.  Simplify he did, and he did it in ways that I had never hoped for. In 365 days, I have learned that safe and familiar feels really good…but it’s also absolutely overrated.  For a woman who delights in security, these are no easy words.  But in a year of waking, they are the only ones.

To borrow Philip Yancey’s musing, ” [I have] learned to trust: not that God would prevent hardship, but that he would redeem even the hardship.”  But what about the space that lies between the hardship and God’s redemption of it?  Yes, that space, where the very real rubber meets the very real road.  That space where nothing feels right or good or hopeful or sane.  That space requiring “a desperate, daily dependence on God,” as my friend Brad would say.  That space where you must daily choose to believe that God is present and at work in an utterly amazing way. That space where you finally have to acknowledge God is telling his story in all of life—including the one you’re living.

For You and You alone
Awake my soul, awake my soul and sing
For the world You love
Your will be done, let Your will be done in me

Like the rising sun that shines
Awake my soul, awake my soul and sing
From the darkness comes a light
Awake my soul, awake my soul and sing


Today I celebrate a year of waking.  And what of you, friends?