I have nothing meritorious of my whining today. Well, besides the charming burn blistering my arm, courtesy of the leaky iron in the Sweetest Suite. Even my time with Amber was outstanding as we worked our way through the whole epistle of First John.
My word for the day is ridiculous. It’s ridiculous they way my emotions have turned into a world-class roller-coaster ride. If I keep this up, I’m going to make myself motion sick. Up, down, up, down. Whoops! There’s a loop-da-loop! Don’t lose your soup! I must know: Am I floundering because I am losing focus, or because I am being attacked? Am I being attacked because I am weak…or because I am becoming strong? Or because I am losing focus? Is the intensity with which I feel everything, shall we say, healthy? Natural? Pleasing to the Lord? If not, how in the world can I gain control of my unwieldy feelings? How do I claim the victory and conquer through Christ the minute the temptation strikes?
People talk to me. Maybe because I walk around grinning like the Cheshire Cat, completely oblivious to wise precautions about who to avoiding eye-contact. The sun was shining, the day was warm, yesterday is over, past, gone, done, fine’, kaput and God is good. Ladies in thrifts shops stopped me to ask for fashion advice, an old guy in Wal-mart thought I was talking to myself until I showed him my blue-tooth, a little Japanese girl in the Tech library shuffled over to where I worked, shyly asking for help. “Do you know how I can log into the internet?” She handed me her miniature laptop and I blinked at the desktop. A confusing network of black lines stared at me, interspersed with the few familiar icons with which I managed to successfully pick my way over the dangerous morass of a Japanese computer.
Every single chance I missed today. The farthest I managed with the lady in the thrift shop was some lame comment about God making a gorgeous day. The old guy in Wal-mart, well, he probably went to church somewhere anyway. The Japanese girl? Eee. I have such a hard time talking to them! I can barely understand anyone who doesn’t speak perfect English—meaning, my version of English. Worst of all, this morning I got down on my knees and prayed that the Lord would send me opportunities. Even in the moment, I knew He was answering my prayer. Why did I disobey? If I lived in the wild, wild west they’d brand me a yellow-bellied coward. I can talk about wanting to see those mansions filled, but what am I actually doing?
I’m such a wimp. Excuse me while I go beat myself up.
Lord, how patient You must be.
You answer each specific plea
Tied up in paper, with a bow
And I pretend I didn’t know.
I push aside Your giving hand
Insisting, “You don’t understand!”
I scorn the gift You’ve heaven sent.
Please spank me, so I will repent.