My thoughts are scattered to the four winds and, since they tend to be heavy, are likely an environmental hazard. I have absolutely no hope, no desire and no reason to gather them into a presentable bouquet. In fact, my journaling impetus is nearly as dead as our lawnmower transmission. Why do I make the effort to record the life of one speck of sand on the vast seashore of time? As if they way in which the tidal waves move that single grain were somehow marvelous in the grand panorama. To those gazing at the scene, the drama unfolds, not in the lapping of the waves against the shore, but in the rising of the sun—as it should be. But could I be counted worthy to reflect back but the faintest gleam of that sun ball’s glory, I should be content.
It’s past eleven and I’m typing in the dark, hoping no one will realize I’m still awake and stirring. We’re barely home from supper at the Thomas’ house. Fettuccine Alfredo. The dish Audrey fixed Wes when they were dating. “I’ve got it made,” he thought, savoring the delicate herbs. “This woman can cook!” He soon discovered that she could cook—fettuccine alfredo—only. My head is drooping; my eyes are dry, my vision growing fuzzy. I know I will sleep through my five o’clock CD alarm clock. On purpose. But I’ve got to finish this entry. Why? Because it’s become tradition. Always, before I go to bed, I write in my journal.
God’s sovereignty is growing as I read Genesis. Growing in my recognition, at least. Don’t ask me to explain it. If I could understand His workings, I’d be something more than the ignorant, little girl I am. Understand, never. Recognize, yes. Certainly. Without a doubt. As I follow the journey of Abraham, not only from Ur to Cana’an, but also from idolatry to being a friend of God, I am struck by God’s choice. Indescribable. Did Abraham choose Yahweh? He didn’t even know Him. Yahweh chose Abraham and led him, step by step into a deep relationship with Himself, a covenant dependant only on God. And Isaac, the son of promise, did He choose God? He was born into the covenant, by the miraculous work of God in regeneration, and led by God through God’s sovereign choice. Jacob and Esau, the twin sons of Isaac, of whom God prophesied, “The older shall become the younger’s slave” and further said “Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated.” Both born into the covenant, yet only one received the blessing. Why? I don’t know. How? I don’t know. But the fact of the matter remains: God chooses us. There are many things we don’t know about God. Sometimes He seems to have two sides: one merciful and loving, the other harsh and angry. So much we don’t understand. Why does He do what He does? Why does He allow what He does? Why do bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people? Why does He save whom He saves and harden whom He desires? Does it matter? Would we understand should He part heaven and earth and sit down among us to explain? Trapped inside of time, can we hope to see the finished picture as He does? He has revealed to us His character. To that we should cling and be satisfied that He who formed the ear is not deaf, He who made the seeing eye is not blind, and He who is outside of time is not slow. He who built the universe and wrote the program for its operation is surely capable of fulfilling His purpose in every event, and He will surely not be thwarted in anything He has set His mind to do.
Lord, Thy sovereignty supreme
Is far above the mental dream
That I call intellect, and so
I come before Thee, bow down low
And own Thy wisdom far beyond
The scope or limit of time’s dawn.
For Thou who hung the world on naught
Need not, by Thy own work, be taught.