Then he sent out a dove to see if the water had receded from the surface of the ground. But the dove could find nowhere to perch because there was water over all the surface of the earth; so it returned to Noah in the ark. He reached out his hand and took the dove and brought it back to himself in the ark. – Genesis 8:8 & 9
My head hurts. In fact, it throbs. My eyes are blurred. I had deadlines to meet yesterday –big deadlines. What I had written needed to be rewritten. Not once, but numerous times. The computer has a clock the size of quarter ticking down the time in the upper left corner of the screen and with each sweep of the second hand I felt the pressure increase.
When I hit send at 11:49 p.m. I leaned against my chair and took in a deep breath. Funny how God cares for us. As I reached to flip off the computer screen, an email popped into the mailbox.
“Just rolled in. What’s up? Course you’re probably in bed now.”
Silly as it sounds, I started to cry. The tears were a combination of a headache, stress and exhaustion, but more so, they were tears of joy. You see, I’d sent an email, the day before to Aaron seeking his help on this deadline. I knew he was out of town, he’d told me he’d be gone for the weekend, but I sent him a note hoping, he might return before I had to send my work. He didn’t make it. However, what he did was respond. He wrote as soon as he saw my email. Most would have deleted the email assuming it was too late to bother. Knowing the time difference, he still responded.
I thought how frustrating it must have been for the dove Noah assigned the task of searching out land. Flying for hours, becoming exhausted, hoping for an up draft to get it back to the ark. Its task was completed, as tired as it must have been, Noah extended his hand for the dove. He could have just opened the window, but he didn’t. He held out his hand.
When we’ve faced trials and frustrations, met deadlines, finished the project – when our head throbs –all we have to do is look toward the Father. Christ stands, hand extended, waiting to bring us into him. I was tempted to pull an old devotion. I’d earned a rest, I felt sure. But I didn’t --to much to be grateful for and Aaron’s simple email reminded me that it’s not always the content, it’s fact that someone was there. God has never left my side.
So I looked over my desk chair seeing the Father, shoulder leaned against the wall, leg crossed, toe touching the floor. I shrugged. He smiled and pointed at the note from Aaron.
“See. Someone is there. You’re never alone. I promised. And I keep my promises.” He ruffled my hair as He passed. “Now rest.”
Oddly enough, I felt the frustration and stress drain. As I laid my head on my pillow, the Father whispered. “I will bring you to me. Rest.”