The Psalmist David said, “I waited patiently for the Lord…” Well, I’m ashamed to say that that’s not my testimony. Mine would read more like – “I waited, grumbled, pleaded, bargained…went back to waiting for the Lord while fixing my problems on my own.” My Psalm would probably have 300 chapters instead of 150 because all my ‘fix-on-my-own’ strategies backfire and make God have to do extra to untangle me. Sigh…I’m working on my waiting skills.
“Smooth living makes for sloppy spirituality,” says Moore in her book “Get Out of that Pit”. How true huh… we never really think of it until we compare our high chapters with our low chapters. When the seas are choppy I pursue God with such a vengeance and then when the waves calm my pursuit falters. It’s as if God brings storms to tap me on the shoulder saying – “hey hey, you DON’T have this under control ma’am.” I wish though that we could just by pass all the choppy waves. Won’t it be something if like an editor we could look through the book of our life and delete chapters at will before they even unfold? I find myself sometimes when I’m going through, pleading with God telling him that I’ve learned whatever lesson he’s trying to teach me so I could get out faster. Yes I actually do say this pray…I know I know … I’m fooling no one and especially not God.
“Good stories don’t jump on a page,” — good things come to those who wait…. Yaddy yaddy yah … Such powerful messages that remind us that trials are meant to shape and make us. We know all these sayings and can sure preach them to our sisters when they are going through. But as soooooooon as the shoe is on the other foot, ohhhhh … all of a sudden we feel it’s too tight, bunions flare up and corns start itching. There I go again with the French and “we” – let me speak for me.
Deep down in my heart of hearts I know that God’s got me. I know it. Yet before I get to that place of calm assurance I’m in a crumpled ball in my closet misusing my tear ducts. And not just the sniff sniff pat your eyes cry. No I’m talking about the kind where the hurt tortures the very pit of my stomach and my helplessness threatens my very peace of mind. Have you ever been in that place? Where you just wish that you could detach yourself from the pain until it subsides? Even as I’m writing this it’s dawning on me that this is the key. “MY helplessness” — Light bulb! In my own strength I’m helpless. If only when I’m in trouble I look up and not around. Perhaps this is where God is trying to take me — mature me to the point where like Job instinctively I say, not just with my lips but with my actions – “though he slays me yet will I trust him…though he slays me —YET will I trust Him!”
A friend said to me I can’t swim, but I can handle my own with my doggie paddle. How are you handling your choppy waters?