I remember saying to God late one evening and during a particularly long season of indecision, "Please! What are You saying? I need to hear from You." I slid down the wall I was leaning against to a sitting position on the floor, knees to chest; more from relief that the day was ending, than from lack of strength. "Go to bed," I heard resounding in my heart, not in my ears; the location where my "knower", as Dave Bishop used to call it, resides; from whence I say I know that God is speaking to me. I laughed out loud, then gathered myself up and did just that. "The Almighty will be up all night, anyway," someone has already said. "May as well let Him worry about it." Tonight, I know that I should do the same. I'm not staying up because I have things to do. Rather, I'm refusing to go to bed, under some sort of delusion that if I refuse to end this day, perhaps tomorrow won't come.
