Category Archives: Obedience

A Worthwhile Quest?

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Our little Emerald just turned 3 months old, and like most babies, she’s sometimes frustrated by the short list of physical skills she possesses. Although she’s an easy baby, lately she’s demonstrated an eagerness to move on to the next thing.

Trying to sit, at 3 months

When she’s put down for a diaper change, she wriggles her limbs, coaxing them to get stronger. As she rests in the vibrating infant seat, she strains to raise her head in an effort to get upright. When we stand her up in our laps, her shaky legs do their best to stay straight. And she can’t wait to sit on her own.

That’s how it is with us humans, even with mini-humans. We seem always to be questing after what’s coming next. For children, that’s physical gains. For adults, it’s in the world of business, academia, parenting, or any other endeavor-of-the-moment.

Pursuing excellence with eagerness is a good thing, unless of course we’re doing it with improper motives, such as racing to outdo someone else or chasing success for money. And what if we’re running after that next thing just to get away from what we’re doing now? We have to be careful in thinking about our what’s-next. God asks us to seek balance, living somewhere between questing and contentment.

As a young mom I used to long for my baby’s next developmental stage. “Once he can sit up, he’ll be much happier. When she can finally crawl, she won’t be so fussy. After he learns to walk, he’ll have something to do.” I was doing too much questing at the cost of appreciating the here-and-now. The problem is, when we’re constantly reaching for the future, we’ve already checked out of the present. And right along with that, we’re tempted to believe the lie that everything is always better, just ahead of where we are.

Of course we should make sensible plans for tomorrow, but never at the expense of today. We’ve all heard the expression, “The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray.” That quote, buried in a 1785 poem by Robert Burns, was written after he plowed through a nest of mice and was bothered by the unwitting destruction he caused this “family.”

His actual quote was: “The best laid schemes of mice and men go often awry, and leave us nothing but grief and pain, for promised joy!” None of us know when our preparations and expected joy will be plowed through by unexpected happenstance, which is a biblical principle. And when we decide not to jump ahead of ourselves (or God), we’re released from the worry that usually accompanies over-planning.

Stop and Go

But when God gives the green light, that’s when we go with gusto. As for little Emerald, judging by the way she’s gusto-ing toward each next physical milestone, I’d say she’s already been given the green.

“Don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” (Matthew 6:34)

Full Hands

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OpenThis morning the pastor preached about being generous with our time, both to God and others. Before he began with prayer, he asked if we’d all put our hands out in front of us, palms up, as an outward sign of inner readiness to receive from God. Though I’d never done that before, today I did, mostly because I wanted to be on the receiving end from him.

God didn’t waste any time in making his deposit. After the pastor’s “amen,” I glanced to my right where I saw Birgitta’s hands still upturned. Resting in them was the sweet head of her little Emerald looking up at her, and that’s when God made his deposit. “See those hands?” he said to me. “Birgitta didn’t have to ask me to fill them this morning. They’re full with Emerald.”

Hands full of Emerald

I thought of the freeing nature of Birgitta’s not having to wonder what to do with her time. Her God-given assignment was literally in her hands. Sure, she’s added university classes and other things, but Emerald is God’s #1 for her. And he’s willing, even eager, to give each of us a #1.

So how do we know when our hands are already full with his choice or if it’s time to turn palms up for a new deposit?

I remember a day one year ago, before I learned Birgitta was pregnant. I’d finished a busy period writing Hope for an Aching Heart and had a little time on my hands for the first time since before Nate died. Then one afternoon I found myself rifling through a basement bin of old videos.

Finding a boxed season of “Little House on the Prairie,” I took it upstairs, got something to eat, and put on the first show. When it finished, I clicked into a 2nd, and when I realized I’d been sitting there nearly 2 hours already and was contemplating watching a 3rd, I couldn’t believe it.

The next morning I asked God how he wanted me to use my new-found time, knowing his answer wouldn’t be, “Watch videos.” This was a moment when open hands, palms up, would have been a good idea. His prior #1 had been completed, and he was about to give me a new assignment. I didn’t know it then, but soon I’d be helping Birgitta and Emerald. Coupled with that, he was also going to give me a new book to write.

And so today in church, God did deposit a message into my open palms. It was this: “I’ve already filled your hands for now. When it’s time for a refill, I’ll let you know.”

Little House DVDs

(And he’ll probably do it when I’m back in the basement, rifling through a bin of videos.)

“It is not for you to know times or seasons that the Father has fixed by his own authority.” (Acts 1:7)

Slammed

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Bucket ListIn recent years, a popular trend for people my age has been to make a bucket list, an inventory of everything one hopes to do before dying. For example: travel to Paris, take piano lessons, conquer a fear of flying, learn a new language.

I don’t have a bucket list but do have the flip side of that, a mental record of all the things I hope not to do, things like trying to run through a plate glass window. Regretfully, I checked that off yesterday.

It wasn’t that I didn’t have a reason. I’d accidentally left my debit card sticking out of the ATM machine at the bank and 30 minutes later realized it. Racing back with the hope it would still be there, my heart sank when it wasn’t.

And that’s where the I-hope-not list got checked. Racing toward the glass double doors of the bank, I paid no attention to the recent remodeling that had made a set of double doors into one door and one panel of glass. When I bolted into the panel, it didn’t open even an an inch.

Immediately I got the chance to experience item #2 on the I-hope-not list: a split lip.

Come on in...

As soon as the stars cleared, I walked through the real door and into the bank, embarrassed by what had happened. But unbeknownst to me, my lip was dripping blood, and the teller’s face showed alarm. But she handed me my card without comment, so I smiled (ouch), and headed for the car’s visor-mirror (ugh).

Sometimes we rush through life at such break-neck speeds we don’t see what God is trying to show us. Maybe it’s a piece of guidance he wants to give or a new idea, possibly an important chiding or a practical interpretation of Scripture. If he considers it valuable enough and we still can’t see it, he might let us run right into it.

We may even end up with the spiritual version of a split lip, a blast of circumstances that hurts deeply. The reason behind them may not be visible, but being forced to endure them can be tantamount to a blast of unanticipated pain that shocks the system and leaves damage behind. But how can we prepare for what’s invisible?

We trust the One behind it.

Once we commit our lives to the Lord, whatever comes after that is part of his grand plan whether we see it coming or not. We can be sure we’ll encounter both the good and the bad, the honorable and dishonorable, split profits and split lips. The reality is, if it happens, we needed it.

Slammed...

My split lip is unsightly, but eventually it’ll heal and disappear. As a result of my I-hope-not experience, I’m fairly sure I’ll never miss “seeing” that invisible sheet of glass again, which is why a split lip can actually be a good thing.

But then again, I just might decide to stick with the bank’s drive-through.

“Though you have not seen him, you love him.” (1 Peter 1:8)