What this is all About

I had a breakdown the other day. Seriously. I was laying in bed, and my wife and I try to pray every night before we fall asleep, usually just one of us prays, and I’m laying there and I say, “I’ll pray” and she says, “Okay.”

Then it happens. I get overwhelmed with this task, this calling, this weight.

You would think that after being away at Colorado on a spiritual renewing retreat that I’d be refreshed, encouraged, invigorated and, well, renewed. But I’m praying, and all the sudden I feel heavy. I feel like if this prayer is one of those simple “thankee fer frands, fallashyip, an’ fewd” prayers, that the whole world will crumble. That the stability kingdom of God itself will be in jeopardy or seriously in question.

So I pray, very slowly, choosing my words as if the fabric of eternity is only a flippant phrase away from shredding. I pray, because I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. I pray, because I am a sinful wretch of a man. I pray, because all of this is so totally out of my control. I pray, because I cannot do otherwise.

And after I pray, I cry. I’m a man, but man, sometimes it’s the only way to deal with it all. I cry, and my wife moves close to me, her warm body pressing against my back, and her gentle hand rests on my shoulder.

“You’re the man for the job,” she says. “It’s pretty obvious that this is where God wants you.”

I love my wife. I love her heart. I would be lost without her.

And for now, I pray and I cry. Because I am a youth minister, and I am completely inadequate.