There’s a lot that I need to process, to unpack, to bring up into conversation with God. Some of it I already have. Some He has brought up with me. Some I have faced through unavoidable circumstances, reminding me of what Frederick Buechner said about God speaking to us through the daily events of our lives. But now, I’m not even quite sure where to begin.
Maybe this is the best place to start… Jesus, what… where do we go? What do you want to speak to me? What do I need to hear?
Richard Foster says that we should pray about whatever it is we and God are doing together. And so it’s here that I have a confession. I’ve bought into the subtle notion that there’s not a whole lot Jesus is doing here, with me, in and with and through my life and marriage and home, that the real work of God is out there somewhere in major ministries and movements. Of course, that flies in the face of Paul’s revelation that we are to be conformed to the image of Christ, “predestined” – destined! – to that end. That’s our destiny. More that that, it goes against the very present reality and promise of the Evangel, that God is here, engaged, inviting me to live life, and live it large. Not meaning to go out there somewhere, but to “come,” to be home with Him, to pursue and seek Him, to learn the new language of the New Way, to be conformed to His image and transformed into His likeness – by His grace and to His glory.
I’ve been seeking the Lord God on a particular decision, needing so much to hear Him say to go either this way or that, and I’ve been frustrated and angry for not being able to hear Him speak. Is He silent on the matter? Am I unable to hear Him? Is there too much warfare or noise pollution around me? In the midst of these looming questions, my wife broke in with a brilliant thought last night: “Maybe you’re asking the wrong question. Maybe God doesn’t want you to ask which way to go, but rather what His heart is for you.” The implication is, of course, that His heart for me is where He wants me to go. It leads me to the freedom to follow Him wherever it is He’s going.
And so I need to hear from you, Father, not about next month or the one after that. Not even about tomorrow. I need to hear Your heart for me. I need to lean close to hear Your heartbeat. Help me hear You. I am Your sheep, and I hear your voice. I am Your servant and son. What’s more, I am Your friend in whom You confide. Reveal to me what You are doing and what Your desire is. Reveal Your heart for me. Show me the way, Jesus.
Amen.
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As the old man walked along the beach at dawn,
he could see someone far down the beach flinging something into the ocean,
Time and again,
the person would bend over, pick up something, stand up,
and throw it into the water.
Finally the old man caught up to the young man,
and asked him why he was doing this.
The young man replied that the stranded starfish would die if left in the morning sun.
"But the beach goes on for miles, and there are millions of Starfish."
retorted the old man. "How can you really make a difference?"
The young man looked at the starfish in his hand
and then he threw it into the safety of the waves as he replied
"It makes a difference to this one."
(The Starthrower, by Loren Eisley)
Francis Collins, the geneticist whose The Language of God I am currently reading, describes a trip he made as a relief worker in Africa in the chapter "Truth Seekers." As a western doctor, he knew there were limitations to what he was going to be able to accomplish. The health care system was not going to be the same as in the developed world. Still, he imagined he was going to do great things, maybe save all kinds of people.
The reality was more brutal, and he found himself worn out by the apparent hopelessness of the situation. "I grew more and more discouraged," he wrote, "wondering why I had ever thought that this trip would be a good thing."
Then one day, a farmer came in near death. He recognized the symptoms right away of something called a "paradoxical pulse", probably brought on by tuberculosis. He knew that the only treatment available was something a cardio specialist would normally do. Collins wasn't qualified for the procedure. But it was the only way to save him. So using a large needle, he bore a hole in the man's chest, drew out the fluid, and the man's symptoms subsided.
The next day, the young farmer told him, "I get the sense you are wondering why you came here. I have an answer for you. You came here for one reason. You came here for me." (You can hear Collins tell this story in his own words here.)
Collins learned what so few of us do. We are all called to do great things. But the great things we are meant to do are not necessarily things that will change the world, dramatically altering the flow of history. Maybe the great thing we are meant to do will only save one person; maybe the great thing we will do will be known only to God - maybe we won't even be privileged to know what it is, or when it happened. But live every moment like it is your great thing, your vocation. Every moment you face may be the one reason you were put on this Earth.
So live every second like it is the one thing you are here to do. For who knows? Maybe it is.
Lane - Learning to live in the moment and trusting the rest to the Lord God is exactly what my wife and I are learning recently as His apprentices, as well as remembering that we are here to know Him and come alive to Him. What He does with that, how He works that out in the world around us, we are trying to learn to leave up to His Spirit. Your words hit hard and fast. Thank you for them.
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