Precious to me are Your thoughts, God. I marvel in the vastness of their sum. Your servant delights to remember Your faithfulness in taking the role of High Priest on my behalf. You willingly became a man of sorrow. My personal laments are but a drop in the ocean of Your own grieving heart. Your love encompassed time itself, seeing the rebellion that brought about Your wounds and yet forgiving those who afflicted You anyway. Like the relentless tide beneath a full moon, Your love rushes across history – past, present, and future – with strong waves of grace and mercy. It is in Your Living Water that my sins are drowned and my cares, temporal and vain, are washed away. Only You can sever the fleshly bond that keeps me from full surrender. Lord Jesus, take me out on the mighty waves of salvation. Or wash me up on the shore. Either way, I am dependent upon You for life. My soul without You cannot breathe in the depths that pull me under. When washed up on the shore, broken and without a single plea in my defense, only Your hands can pick up the wet carcass of what used to be and make it into something it was supposed to be. Lord, take me through the storm or vomit me on the shore; only never let me be without Your presence. Put Your ear to my shivering soul and listen for the faint echo of a feeble faith. If only to place my head on the feet of my mighty High Priest who shared in my suffering, the pulse of hope quickens within me. It is in this space my soul finds rest in sorrows understood. Under the blessed assurance of the Word set forth in Isaiah 14:3 and the authority of Christ I bow in prayer.

It will happen in the day that Yahweh will give you rest from your sorrow, from your trouble, and from the hard service in which you were made to serve.
Isaiah 14:3, WEB