Driving back from Portsmouth I thought about the constant pressure I feel to read more Edwards, Brainard, Owen, Spurgeon, etc. I suddenly felt tired of reading about other men's relationships with God; other men's revelation of Scripture.

I am tired of it.

I want my own. My own relationship, my own revelation.

And now, remembering the faces, the conversations, the "f-bombs," the posters, worldview and lifestyle of the young community there, only a person with a real relationship--a direct one--with God will effect any change whatsoever. Sure, I could hang on the streets of OOB with the High Schoolers--but what about Portsmouth? What about the Old Port? Do I have that in me? If not here, how in some far-off dreamy third-world?

Tonight I am tired, and weary of academic Christianity. I listened to Piper's message Doing Missions When Dying is Gain again on the way to/from Portsmouth. It is still one of the best messages I've ever heard. But something is missing for me. That "thing that has me losing in life" still clings. Perhaps I am just plain weary--it is after 1 AM and I should've been in bed and asleep 2.5 hours ago...

...but oh, how I want my own. Oh how I want the days to slow down that I might have my own! I crawl into bed thinking--is this real? Has this day slipped by so fast? Is my life slipping by so fast? I was just here! What-WHAT-did I accomplish for the Kingdom today??

I am tired of it. And I want my own.