Each word pressed into being today is unplanned.
I came to this place with a different story to tell, and it was a good, God glorifying, purposefully humble story that would point to Him. And, then before beginning, I did what I should always do. I entered into the Holy Word of God and was again transformed.
I thought I knew what I needed to say. But instead, the Holy Spirit directed me to what I needed to see and hear. His word uncovered my covert hypocrisy.
Because the details of the day will still corroborate my original story. Today won’t be easy and my unbelief will deeply tempt me to turn to my own self justified positions. Predictably, I’ll want to formulate my own strategies and execute my self-interested plans. And, don’t get me wrong. These plans of mine are actually good plans to keep appropriate boundaries, parent well, educate diligently, do the hard work of restoring relationship, and with sincerity fulfill my calling. But, somewhere and sometime along the way, I’ll fall into the habits of frustration, fatalism, and my deeply flawed self.
Today has its work cut out for me. I already know early in the day the trenches of living and loving will be deep and hard. Appointments loom. Mounds of laundry, heaps of homework, and piles of service only grow deeper and wider. And, if I’m careful to tell myself the truth, I was already girding up my secret sanctimonious self to accompany the day.
But God, and His priceless word found me out, loved me, covered me yet again with His matchless grace, and gave me a better story to tell.
I needed to see and hear that this day, this family, this struggle, this joy, this floundering, this marriage, these children, and this very breath has been appointed unto me for God’s good plan and for my eternal delight.
So as my fingers continue to fly across keys and make impressions, they act as tellers of a better tale. I entered this day with doubt, fear, and hopeless plans to just endure, and maybe, just maybe, if I’m lucky, get my own way with self-serving results; another day of unbelief.
It makes me wonder.
Centuries ago, a simple man built a huge boat. For decades he labored, faithfully carrying out his calling, and following the Lord’s instructions. Day after day he laid the beams and built the decks and crafted a monstrous impossibility; impossible because the earth had never yet seen rain.
I wonder if there were times that the arid day’s calling was hopeless, filled with lack of belief, and the futility of the task tempted Noah to lay down his tools and just walk away.
But the flood came. And days turned decades of belief saved Noah, and frankly us too, from the crushing waters of unbelief.
I cannot see how God will save me from the deeply discouraging days that I currently live out.
But, still I write and bring to mind:
He loves me.
The God of Noah, the God of creation, the God of destruction before restoration is my personal, perfect, and great God.
And so, I come to this keyboard, and instead of laying down words as self-serving tools, I purpose to send out my dove. Each stroke a waiting breath for the waters to subside and a bow in the sky.
His story is always better.