How precious to me are your thoughts, God…Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand…. PSA 139:17-18 NIV
"What's shifting?" he yelled in my direction. "I said I feel like my sands are shifting," I answered, not admitting my sands weren't the only shifting things I was concerned about these days! He smiled and walked away, totally clueless about what I was referring to. He did not show any glimmer of curiosity. Smart man!
I had been feeling my life sands, so to speak, were shifting, something changing, moving, new desires, new ideas, and new thoughts. For instance, did you ever want to see a burning bush, hear the very voice of God whisper your name, and watch a body of water part? Not that I needed to see a burning bush to believe, mind you, it's just that I seem to have a growing dissatisfaction with living the Ecclesiastes event; live a good life, help those in need, and hope you are good enough to get it.
There has to be more excitement, fun, and laughter in being a king's daughter, doesn't there? Every King has celebrations, and I was ready for one. Boy, was I ready! I wanted to live differently. Not an "everything's going to be fine, even if only when I get to heaven" oblivious existence. Not a name it and claim it, Santa Claus, at my service kind of faith-filled life, but either a fulfillment in my desires or a change in them.
I was told I overanalyze it all, but I'd rather that be the case for me than not noticing at all. Living my life with one big sigh and saying, "Oh well," is a dangerous place for me. "Whatever" is not in the Bible! This is supposed to be a participant process, not a spectator sport, and I was feeling the shifting of my derriere upon the planks of the observatory bleachers.
And as I contemplated all of this and what it meant, I suddenly, and I mean suddenly, realized that I do not cry, "Put me in coach!"! I don't seek Him to put me in the game. I don't practice my steps, polish my shoes, or iron my uniform. I don't prepare just in case that missionary in Africa has to come home.
I don't even call and put my name on the list as a backup server for the soup kitchen. I resist the armor and the combat. I would much rather be back at camp cooking a hearty dinner for the warriors' return. And yet I dare to be, um, shall we say, BORED in my walk? I guess I am supposed to whisper that...those legal folks DO have an image to uphold, you know...that everything is always okay when you name yourself Christ-like….
How much stimulation should I expect from staying within my real or imaginary walls? Is purpose, dreams, blessing, and life itself going to plop down on my front porch and wait for me to decide to walk outside? Do I really think those friendships I yearn for will happen on the internet, through twittering or facebooking? How real can they be if there is never any real, live, in-person 'look me in the eye' and take the chance of them seeing my stuff and negative moments?
It's a trust thing. Do I trust humankind to be kind? Nope. Do I trust my neighbor to look out for my best interest? Only sometimes. Do I suspect the motives of those I love when they do something nice out of the ordinary? Yup, sometimes I do. But who's in charge of guarding my heart when those things happen? Me? Lord, no! Lord, no is right.
Only the Lord can heal my heart if it gets bruised anyway, so why do I put up those walls, put on that hot sticky suit of armor, wear that fake smile, and hope no one can read the menopausal symptoms in my eyes or dripping down my temples? Because I'm a human! Huh. Shocker, I know.
But you know who isn't shocked about that? Jesus! God. The Holy Spirit. They know...they made me! They will only come in and work on my behalf when I give them permission because the gentle in them does nothing else but be just that. Oh, I can sit here for the next hundred years and blame all the people in my life who have hurt me in my past. I can remain a victim. I can choose to do that. OR...
So today, I am going to my first day volunteering at my church. And Thursday night, we have our first membership class. So stay tuned for the process……. I'm sure I will be letting you know one way or the other how things are going. How about you? What's on your schedule today? Building sandcastles or blazing a new trail, maybe? It's nice there are so many choices, though, don't you think?
Pass the Grace,
Jan
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