I really like this article from Bo's Newsletter...
Always Give Your Best Struggle
When I preach to an audience of thousands, I always find two or three people in the audience who sleep through my talks.
It doesn’t matter what I do, whether I crack a joke, scream till my larynx dies, or I murder someone in the front row—it will have the same effect on them: Zzzzzzzzz... That’s right, one of them snores. In four voices, no less.
Because they’re the same people who always nap, I know them quite well.
Like I know their permanent seating arrangement.
And I know exactly when each one will fall asleep. With clockwork precision, one guy sleeps at my third sentence, while the woman with the flowery blouse signs off on my fifth. The third one dozes off the moment I enter the stage. (I get paranoid sometimes. Do I really look thatboring?)
I also know their favorite sleeping postures.
There are only two major ones really. The most popular is what I call the Wet Look: After the head bobs up and down, it finally tilts forward. Count ten seconds and drool flows from chin to lap.
The second most popular sleeping position, I call Hallelujah Forever. This time, the head is tilted way back, and—gloriously—the mouth is wide open. The same way a mouth opens when a world-class tenor is singing the final “jah” of Handel’s Hallelujah. Except this one won’t stop. And I can tell you his entire dental history from twenty feet away. Three molars filled and one root-canalled. If I get any nearer, I can give you an endoscopy report.
But lest you think I’m angry at them, I want to say that I really admire their struggle to come despite their obvious exhaustion. First of all, they’re a loyal bunch. They’re present every gathering! (Physically, at least.) God knows they’re tired, and He honors the struggle they’re going through to be there.
Because when I’m tired, I too sometimes fall asleep in my daily prayers. When my wife catches me, I just tell her that I practice a very “deep” kind of meditation where I “rest” in the God’s Presence. She doesn’t buy it.
But curiously, I think my God does. Because He hasn’t thrown a lightning rod towards my direction yet. I bet He even laughs at my wet look or hallelujah forever posture. I guess He also honors my struggle to pray despite my exhaustion—and that struggle of mine really pleases Him.
We have a funny God.
We have a God who demands that we give the best to Him. But if the best we can give is faulty and weak, He accepts what we give to Him anyway and transforms it to become the best. Even when we flounder and fall and fail, He’ll know if we gave Him our best struggle.
And He’ll laugh with you and tell you to struggle again.