Since being home I’ve become an insomniac, not by choice. I lie awake for hours, my body is exhausted, but my mind won’t stop. It churns the same thoughts over and over until it is weary, but still never decides to retire.
The same thoughts, every night, as I lie awake staring at the ceiling again. I begin to wonder…
I wonder if there is something God wants my mind to think about in these early hours of the morning that I am too busy to think about during the day.
I wonder if those things He wants to teach me are essential to my faith moving forward. And I wonder if he is just as eager to get me to understand as I am to finally sleep again.
I wonder what it was like for Paul when he was in prison, or many other Christians around the world today who are also imprisoned or suffering like Paul. Did he ever struggle to sleep?
And I wonder what it is like to be a Christian who is not suffering because of the persecution of the government, but rather, suffering because of poverty or fear. I wonder what it is like for those young children who do not have a mother, for the mother who has lost her young children, and for the daughter who cannot trust her father.
Can they sleep at night? Are they awake and cold and crying? Are they hungry? Are they sleeping (or attempting to sleep) on cold, hard cement, or dirt, or a prison cell?
Though I am tired, I sit here, comfortably, on my bed, in a warm room, in a safe house. What makes my life different so that I am not running from the law because of my faith? Why did God place me in America, in a Christian home, where I am comfortable and safe and never hungry? Why was I not born in China, or South Africa, or Costa Rica? Why America? And what are God’s plans for me here?
Why am I so comfortable, when Jesus told me that if I wanted to follow him, I would have to pick up my cross? Am I doing this right?