Help, I’m going down!
Where do rhythms of grace go when life swirls like a tempest? Too many activities. Too much travel. Too much pain. Sometimes life is too much. Jesus calls out to us, “Come unto me all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28).
Jesus’ promised rest isn’t a simple nap, coffee break, or vacation. It’s a supernatural ability to remain rested as we work. And sometimes, the work He leads us into drains us.
When I feel drained, I’m learning to let the Holy Water—the Spirit of God—carry me down. All the way. To the bottom. The end of myself.
In 1 Kings chapter 19, we find Elijah completely drained after he battled it out with the priests of Baal. Full of fear, the prophet who acted fearlessly the day before ran for his life and hid from Jezebel. Like the late great NFL coach, Vince Lombardi said, “Fatigue makes cowards of us all.”
The Lord let Elijah sleep and sent an angel with a take-out order to feed the exhausted prophet. Then, the Lord sent him on another draining task. “Take a hike,” God told Elijah, “to Mount Hroeb,” the Mountain of God.
There, God addresses Elijah’s deep discouragement. Elijah wails pitifully, “I alone am left.” Can you relate? “No one understands.” “I’m the only one who cares about _________(fill in the blank: widows, orphans, the lost).” “No one else is doing the work or suffering like me.” We all feel defeated and alone in our faith at times.
So, the Lord washes Eijah with more overwhelming circumstances: a whirlwind, an earthquake, and a fire. You see, Elijah was still hanging onto his own effort and self-importance. The Lord needed Elijah drained so he would stop listening to the lies in his head.
I’ve traveled far more this year than usual; I’m road-weary. I thought my last trip would be the last for this year. Bill and I attended the Refresh Retreat (an annual event in Connon Beach, OR, for people in full-time ministry). We also went To Washington to see our daughter and her family. We traveled by plane or car for four out of the five days we blocked out for this trip. We drove eight hours between Washinton and Oregon.
I’m glad I could go. I’m thankful for the two nights and one day I had at the retreat to reconnect with good friends and walk the beach. However, the whole experience felt more draining than refreshing. When I returned home, I breathed a sigh of relief. It’s time to get on my face and seek the Lord. I’m empty. I’m done. I’m drained.
So, I mark a date on my calendar for fasting and prayer. Then, a rip tide pulled me under, deeper down the drain. My daughter called me; she needs me to make another trip to Arizona to help my uncle move to Houston, Texas, another state I’ve already been to in the past six months. In the emotional somersaults of my soul, I don’t even know where the bottom is. But I know if I could just settle there, it would give me time to look for the still tiny bubbles of God’s breath. Then, I will see the way up.
The way up is never our way. Jesus is the Way. When we think we’re running on empty—we may not be empty enough. The rhythm of grace draws us to the bottom and leaves us there until we listen quietly. And when we listen, we discover we were never alone. God calls others to join us in His work. He’s not finished with us; if we’re still here, it’s because we have unfinished work to complete. Elijah needed to climb down the mountain and join the other servants of God. He needed to
enlist and train his replacement, Elisha. We, too, are commissioned to “Go and make disciples.” The work doesn’t end just because we feel depleted. Depletion is part of our completion.
So, when life is too, too much, let go. Let’s fall flat on our faces. Go down the Holy Spirit’s drain. Sleep. Eat. And most importantly, listen through the noise for God’s still quiet voice.
Let’s confess our self-pity, our vain aspirations, our striving to prove ourselves. All of this misspent energy has a valuable purpose in God’s plan—to make an end of us. God wants to refill us into a channel for His love and mercy. Be encouraged; we are never alone. Let’s listen for God’s gentle call. He’s happy to be our buoyancy if we just let Him float our boat.
Drained isn’t dead. It’s a readiness for refilling.
