You lie down at night, and the cares of the day come thronging round your bed, the doctor’s bill, the surgery ahead, the rent that must be paid, the treatments you scarcely know how to afford. They stand like dark figures in the room, and sleep goes out the window. You feel the weight of it all pressing on your chest, and you wonder if God has forgotten you in the night.
Yet consider this: sleep is a gift He does not sell in the marketplace. The rich man with his coffers full cannot buy a single hour of true rest, and the anxious toiler cannot earn it by tossing on his pillow. It is the Lord’s own love-token, dropped quietly into the hands of those who have no other help. He giveth His beloved sleep, not as a wage for the strong, but as a mercy for the weak. That tired body of yours, worn out with pain and worry, He means to refresh. The same hands that hold the stars in their courses are spread beneath your head tonight, and no enemy can snatch away what your Father gives.
I would not have you think that your present straits are a sign of His neglect. You remember the little ship on Galilee, how the storm beat and the waves broke over the sides, and the disciples cried out, “Master, carest thou not that we perish?” All the while He was in the vessel with them, asleep, yes, but not absent. His sleep was not the sleep of ignorance, but of perfect peace. He knew the storm would not swallow them, for He had spoken their destination. So it is with you. The same Jesus who calmed the sea is in your boat now. The outward calm may not come at once; the waves of financial need and physical suffering may still roar. But His presence is the pledge of your safety, and at the right moment, His moment, not yours, He will rise and speak peace. Until then, trust the heart that seems to sleep. It beats with love for you every moment.
And what of the provision you need? The Good Shepherd does not drive His sheep to barren ground and then forget them. He leads them out, and He leads them in. He knows where the green pastures grow and where the still waters flow. You may not see them yet, but He does. The surgery, the treatments, the daily bread, all are within His sight. He who fed thousands with a boy’s little lunch can certainly meet your necessities. Your part is not to understand the route, but to hear His voice and follow. When the way seems steep and the purse is empty, remember whose sheep you are. He will not starve His own. He will make a way, though it be through a path you never would have chosen. The same love that carried your sins to the cross will carry your burdens to the door.
So tonight, my dear soul, commit your case to Him. Lie down not in despair, but in dependence. The medicine of sleep will do its work, and tomorrow’s grace waits for tomorrow’s need. He who watches over you neither slumbers nor sleeps. Rest in that.
Lord Jesus, good Shepherd of the sheep, look upon this one who is worn and anxious. Give that deep, restoring sleep that only Thou canst give. Stand between this soul and every harm. Provide for every earthly need, meet the cost of treatments, the expense of surgery, the daily bread. But more than all, quiet the heart with the peace that passeth understanding. Let faith see the end of the storm even while the waves yet swell. For Thou art mighty to save, and tender to care. Amen.