Chris Robins, one of my mentors (who is planting a church in San Francisco), giving us an insight into his own heart and how God’s heart calms it:
Isaiah 62:6–7, “I have posted watchmen on your walls, Jerusalem; they will never be silent day or night. You who call on the LORD, give yourselves no rest, and give him no rest till he establishes Jerusalem and makes her the praise of the earth.”
There’s a focus, a kind of raw delight mixed with fanatic intensity, that a dog has with a bone. Nothing else in the world exists in those chewing and cracking moments when the marrow is just out of reach. He growls at you if you grab for his prize. He begins at one end, using the leverage of his jaw and paw to split open his treasure. That is an old way of using the word “worry” as a verb. “That pup is really worrying that bone,” you would say.
It’s a funny way to use the word, because it kind of describes how we cope with anxiety. You worry about your daughter’s school, or the lump they found in your abdomen, or whether your house will sell at the right price. What do you do? You worry the problem. You chew on it by thinking about it before you go to sleep, talking it through with your friends every day, clicking every link you can find online for hours to find more info. You chew and gnaw at it until your chewer is sore. I just did that. I had insomnia for the first time in my life this month. Night after night laying awake. It was awful. I hated it. I was worrying this church plant to the bone. But I absolutely love this little passage from Isaiah. I love it.
This is God speaking. Actually I think it’s even more than that. This is a perfect script for Christ. It was written about Him and for Him. Which makes incredible sense because one of Christ’s strangest commands, along with equally bizarre stories, is about worrying God. If you call on God, this God, don’t give yourself a break. Don’t rest. Don’t quit. Don’t stop. In what? Bugging God about what He says He will do. Asking, pleading, reminding, and then after you’ve grown tired of that, asking, pleading, and reminding some more. The religious word for it is “importunate.” The ordinary word for it is “obnoxious.”
Christ owns this command in Isaiah as the model for all real prayer done by His people. Don’t. Give. Up. Not until the skies are rolled back like a scroll. Today I went back to old prayer lists from years ago and I could hear the Holy Spirit whisper in His word: Don’t. Give. Up. Isaiah 62:6-7 is printed at the top of my old prayer list. It was good and sweet and strangely restful. What does this kind of worrying God do? It finally puts to rest all those little worries of our unbelieving hearts. Knocks them down. Kills them. Relentless pleading with eternal love is an antidote to anxiety. I’ve got better things to do than worry about our worship service tomorrow. I’ve got a God to worry about all of this. Where are the conversions Father? Where are Your people? Who’s going to do childcare? When will San Francisco know the power of the reviving God?
I am praying to (read worrying) God with relief about all of this. I am not giving Him any rest, just so I can sleep tonight. I pray for a raw delight and intensity for you with the Lord now. In Jesus.Name.Amen.Praise Him.