Drain-Out

On the train approaching my stop, I politely asked the man seated next to me if he could get up. “We’re not there yet,” he said, “what’s the hurry? “ I stared in disbelief. The thought actually raced through my mind—“I’m glad I didn’t try to share my faith with this jerk.” Imagine! I kept leering, and he finally rose from his seat, but not happily. At the door our spat continued. “See, we haven’t stopped yet,” he said, pointing to the moving train. That was it. I leaned forward into his face, and measured my words, “If—I—want—to—get—up—I’ll—get—up,” I seethed. He backed off. I guess my body language scared him.

The incident exhausted me in the moment, but later I realized that I had drained out long before. My routine hadn’t changed, still rose early for devotions, and tucked in the day with prayer. Yet, unbeknownst to me, life had seeped out.

Drain-out differs from burnout, in that it’s a vague tiredness, a heavy step rather than a buoyant skip. The long obedience needed in our call exacts a toll, that unless replenished leaves us fatigued, and a little numb.

The solution? An invitation with a promise.

“Come to me, all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

It was said of Moses, that he would often go outside the camp to the tent of meeting, and there meet God. He made an extra effort to sit with Him, while the eyes of a young man named Joshua absorbed a picture of intimacy, a portrait of rest.

How are you? If you feel drained, take a trip ‘outside the camp.’ Sit with Him in order to prepare yourself to be poured out through finishing the school year well—Getaway and all. He is only one step away from the routine.