“Give me Jesus. Just give me Jesus. You can have all of this world, but give me Jesus.”
She is awoken to these lyrics floating through the room in the wee hours of the morning. “Just give me Jesus.” As she rises to go to the bathroom for the fourth time that night, she hears her Papa’s still small voice. “Are you as desperate for My arrival as you are for baby girl’s?” He whispers to her soul, “do you long for Me the way you long for her?” She cannot see the power and depth of these questions as exhaustion has overtaken her once again. Her head hits the pillow and she’s out like a light, yet just an hour later she awakes to the same song floating in and out of the room. “You can have all of this world, just give me Jesus.” “Are you as desperate for My return as you are for her arrival?” She lay there, contemplating, thinking, convicted. How often did she think about the fact that her baby was past due, and how often did she voice her frustration that she just wanted the birth to come? And yet, how long has it been since she prayed for His return, since she asked Him to come and fill this place?
It’s been a wild ride anticipating the birth of our daughter. My husband and I find ourselves texting each other every hour or so saying how we want her to be born, long to meet her face to face, and how we cannot wait for her arrival. I have to laugh at how many texts I get on a daily basis from friends and family who are also anxiously awaiting the arrival of the newest Busby member. There is a Village around us that is longing to meet Baby Busby, and I hardly have any patience left, for I too long to meet her with everything I have. The voice of Jesus piercing through the darkness brought such conviction on my heart that night. Do I ever long for Him the way I long for this baby? Do I desire His return the way I desire this baby’s arrival? Physically, I am beyond uncomfortable at this point. I waddle everywhere I go. I feel like I will lose my balance, I don’t sleep well, and I need to pee all the time. My uncomfortableness leads me to beg this child to come. It leads me to follow old wives tales of how to get the baby out: eat pineapple, walk up and down steps, dance, drink red raspberry leaf tea, etc. The Lord opened my eyes to the fact that I should be so uncomfortable in this world, that I beg Him to return, that I invite and help usher in His kingdom, and I do all I can to prepare for His return. How uncomfortable are we Church? And, does our comfort leave us far too content that we say, “this is enough Jesus for me?” Because if it does, I pray he make us far, far more uncomfortable. For He is returning, and I don’t know about you, but I want to pour everything I have into anticipation for that arrival. I want to be a part of the winning team, hugging my Papa as He comes in fullness at the end of time.
“Oh how loved you are little one,” she whispers to the baby within her womb. Not even born yet and already deeply loved, cherished, cared for, adored, and invited. Her mind raced back to the voice of her Papa asking if she was as desperate for Him as she is for her baby. “I am family too,” He whispered to her soul. She stopped and stood in His shoes, hearing the sorrow in His voice. If she were returning to save her children once and for all after giving her life for them, she would desire to feel adored by them, invited, cherished, and long awaited, as she now realized He does. “Oh forgive me Jesus,” she whimpered. “I will long for you. We will throw a party when you return. We want you. Oh forgive us for not wanting you more. You. You. You are so worth it all. Come Lord Jesus, come.”