Am I really desperate for God? Do I really desire him? Is there a passion for him evident in my life? The painting above is probably one of my favorites of all time. It's by Fransisco de Zurbaran, a spanish painter in the early seventeenth century. I love how the man's hands are clasped tightly in ferver and the anguish on his face as he silently cries out to heaven. It portrays the desperation that I want to have for God. I think it would be a lot harder to fall if I just spent more time on my knees. The psalmist talks about how the one thing that he wants it to be able to dwell in God's house forever. I want a passion like that in my soul. That desire to do more than spend a few fleeting minutes with God during quiet times. A desire to spend every waking moment with God, to dread sleep because it keeps me from praising God and spending time with him. If he really is the creator of the universe and if he really did call me out of darkness and hopelessness, then doesn't he deserve everything, especially my time?
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