I am all too aware of what horrible outbursts of flesh and sin are typical of the morning-after-a-terrible-night-of-sleep.
I don't need to reach far into the recesses of memory to see the snappish temper, the inward, sulky heart, impatience with others' childish demands, and a general sense of wounded entitlement, all nurtured within a bleary sense that I would be so much better if only so-and-so had not awakened me every 2 hours or such-and-such had not needed to feed so often.
Groaning, I squint at the digital clock face that demands I arise from bed, whatever kind of train wreck I may feel. I am like a ticking timebomb of discontentment, probably moments away from bursting in someone's face.
But of course, this general sense that the world is gloomy and there is no redemption for the crumminess of life on such a tired morning is just one of the enemy's ploys.
Doubtless, he intends to triumph over us without even a struggle, if he can just start us off in despair and lead us gently into a day full of frustration, self-pity, and irritability.
What other darts does he employ? Of course, our cross temper typically multiplies into poor attitudes for all the little people around us. This can easily mushroom into angry outbursts (defended as "discipline") and all its ugly fallout.
Generally, he also sows thick seeds of bitterness toward one's spouse, who (regardless of how good or bad his own night of sleep may have been) cannot appreciate the full pain that one is laboring under at the start of this day.
Knowing (as we do) that God is sovereign in all the smallest details of life, we generally hold a grudge against Him for this tortuous entry into a day and the crud that continues to unfold in it, as the cherry on top of our enemy's tactics.
"We are not ignorant of his schemes" (2 Corinthians 2:11). So what does it look and feel like to face up to the enemy and walk in faith and grace in a morning such as this?
It probably doesn't feel very radical and victorious. It feels more like dying a hundred deaths before breakfast. "For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh" (2 Corinthians 10:3). Most of this war starts in the brain.
God is for me. He has tailor-made graces for the needs of this morning.
These little need-vessels (my children) are a gift.
The sin troubles of their own little hearts mirror my own, and the sacrifice of Jesus has made a way for us to find pardon and help.
There are reasons to laugh even when I'm blitzed.
No agenda for this day is more important than listening for God's quiet voice and receiving and reflecting His love.
Even if I don't check much off my to-do list today, it will be a day that honors God if I walk in Spirit-given kindness toward those around me.
I don't need an extra 15 minutes of sleep as much as I need a few minutes for God's truth to wash over my mind.
My husband is on my team (even if he looks perky and refreshed). He might even pray for me if I ask him.
There is not more joy in sleep than joy in Jesus. And by Jesus' grace, I will indeed (most likely) sleep again one day.
To us, these quiet shifts of heart are pretty insignificant and unimpressive. But I would not be surprised if such is the stuff of "divine [power] for the destruction of fortresses" (2 Corinthians 10:4). Radical Christianity is seen when faith in Jesus triumphs in a sleep deprived morning.
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