The Will and the Work

Have I mentioned that I just love Jesus? ;)

It goes without saying (but I'll say it anyway) that there are literally countless things about Him to love. But what has most recently been added to my list of "Top Bajillion Things I Love About Jesus" is His uncanny ability to speak precisely what I need to hear precisely when I need to hear it.

Take earlier this week, for example. There I was, just barely, faintly offering up a prayer that God would show me in my Bible reading what I most needed to hear at that moment...when, BAM...He spoke.

The story of Jesus' encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well just happened to be the next chapter in my reading for the day. I'd read the story many times before, but this time, a part of it jumped out at me that I had never noticed (gotta love how God's living Word can do that!). Just to set the stage, while His disciples were off buying some food, Jesus uses His opportunity of solitude not to take a nap (weary as He surely was), but to have a life-changing conversation with a woman in desperate need of Truth. When His disciples return with food and urge Him to eat, He instead says,

"I have food to eat

that you know nothing about...

My food...is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work."

- John 4: 32 & 34

I can sadly say without hesitation that if it had been me in Jesus' shoes, I would've, a) slept or spaced out during the entire time the Samaritan woman was in my presence, and b) thrown down a serious munch as soon as my friends returned with some grub - maybe even forgetting to thank God for my food.

But not our Lord Jesus. He had such an urgency and single-mindedness of mission that putting aside His own physical comfort was just a way of life (and ultimately death) for Him.

Head spinning, I put down my Bible after reading this incredible snapshot of Christ's diligence in humility and compassion, and asked myself these hard questions:

- What is "the will" and "the work" that God sends me out to do?

- What things are more important to me than doing God's will and work everyday?

First things first, I believe God's ultimate will is that I love Him through His Son Jesus above all else (see Matt. 22:37). Then, from that place of love, I believe I am called to love those He has put around me (see Matt. 22:39). To me that is, in a nutshell, the will and the work of God in my life. Everything else stems from there.

I am to keep the eyes of my heart constantly turned to Jesus all throughout my day, seeking to know and love Him more and more every moment I am alive. Then I am to reflect His love to those in my path as a response to His love. I have no love to give of my own accord. It is only through His love flowing through me that I can "do the work" of loving others.

So, what keeps me from continually doing God's will and work in my life? What other things do I find more important? Where do my priorities get out of whack? Why am I more often found napping or munching when I should be loving and serving?

Again, I am hit with the sad reality that I still struggle with the lie that other things in this world will bring me more satisfaction than Jesus. In my humanity, I am inclined to turn to the "junk foods" of idolatry - the "foods" I think will satisfy, but always end up leaving me empty and sick - instead of the Bread of Life, which is Christ, who alone can fully satisfy.

When I am tired and weary and bored and discouraged and insecure...I really do not need a piece of cake, or a caramel macchiato, or a chick flick or even a nap (precious as those things can be in the right context!). What I really need, what will truly fill me up and restore me...is more Jesus.

Oh, sweet, merciful Father, forgive me for the countless times I have turned to "junk foods" to feel satisfied instead of spending time with You, the Bread of Life and Living Water! Remind me constantly by the promptings of Your precious Holy Spirit that loving You and loving others in response to Your love are the only things that will ever fill my hungry soul.

Thank You for Your faithfulness and patience.

Amen.

Stay Calm and Don't Move (lessons learned from bees, babies and David)

I am not a fan of flying, stinging insects. Bees, wasps, hornets, yellow jackets (just writing their names gives me chills). I am very much in dislike of them. I'll just go ahead and say I loathe them, and truly it's no stretch to admit that I'm even a bit on the phobic side about them.

Of course, naturally, this means that they have a great affection for me - so much so that I cannot even count the amount of times they have so lovingly sunk their little stingers deep into my flesh (in the most random of places, might I add: back of the neck, foot, thumb, eyelid), even leaving a scar on my shin from one darling bee who crawled up my acid-washed overalls on my bus ride home from school in the 4th grade (guess my "tight roll" just wasn't tight enough).

Since these critters have so clearly declared me as Archnemesis #1, it stands to reason that I find it mighty hard to just "stay calm and don't move," as so many brave souls encourage me to do whenever one of them buzzes near. I really do try. But as soon as my tortured radar picks up that flying stinger, I lose all sense of reason and instantaneously transform into a panicking, screaming, running, flailing spaz. How other people just, "stay calm and don't move," is beyond my comprehension.

Sad thing is, I've found that this instinctive tendency to freak out doesn't just limit itself to my response to flying insects of the stinging variety. I've battled with keeping my perspective on "living in the moment" for most of my life, but never so much since becoming a parent.

I remember lying in my hospital bed after giving birth for the first time, just waiting to feel that overwhelming sense of instant love that everyone said I would for this precious little thing who would soon call me Mom. But as I stared at his tiny, swaddled, sleeping body, it was fear and anxiety that won the battle for my emotional state. In those first few moments, I was flat-out overcome with the mammoth task that now lay before me: I was co-responsible for helping this little baby develop into a decent human being. How in the WORLD does someone as messed up as me even begin to tackle that job? It was all too much to fathom. I felt like someone had dropped a bomb onto my already wiped-out body, and all I wanted to do was sink into that bed and pull the covers over my head.

Thankfully, just as He has done countless times before, God spoke to my panicking heart in that moment and gently reminded me that all I really had to do at that point (and at least for those first few weeks) was just to make sure my baby was: 1) fed and, 2) clean. That, for the time being, would be enough. I could do that! And as his little body grew and he became more complex, God would show me with each stage of growth how to take care of his needs, baby step by baby step. My spirit instantly began to brighten, and I was able to release my grip on a load that was never mine to fully bear and return it to the only One whose strength is limitless. 

Since that first moment of realizing the awesome weight of parenthood, I have inevitably found myself trying to take back that load of "figuring it all out" in other facets of life. When I take my eyes off Christ, I cannot help but begin to fret over the little stingers of life just waiting to pierce my heart. And as I allow my feeble brain to spend too much time on one area of concern for the future, I only find myself deeper and deeper in a state of confusion and worry. Invariably, worry only begets more worry, so I'll naturally start to tack on a whole list of more "what ifs" to my original concern. Even my prayers start to become self-absorbed times of worrying to God, instead of resting in His presence and seeking His will for my life.

So, what's a worrier to do?

David had the answer, when he wrote in Psalm 131:

¹ Lord, my heart is not proud;
      my eyes are not haughty.
   I don’t concern myself with matters too great
      or too awesome for me to grasp.
 ² Instead, I have calmed and quieted myself,
      like a weaned child who no longer cries for its mother’s milk.
      Yes, like a weaned child is my soul within me.

 ³ O Israel, put your hope in the Lord—
      now and always.

Whether we realize it or not, when we worry ourselves over "matters too great or too awesome for me to grasp" (which is most of life), we are really being prideful, putting our hope in our own abilities to plan and scheme and create safety nets. We find ourselves looking under every rock and around every corner, trying desperately to anticipate what might be coming down the pipe next.

Instead, God wants us to just stay calm and not move, "like a weaned child who no longer cries for its mother's milk." We are to become like trusting little children, who rest quietly in our Daddy's lap, knowing that He will provide for all our needs in His perfect timing.

As Beth Moore says, as children of God, nothing in our lives is left to chance. Nothing happens by accident. God is able to take all areas of our lives, even the most painful parts, and work everything out for our good and His glory.

In the end, it really is all good. Who knew!?

And I am beginning to more deeply understand the meaning of and value God places on having a childlike faith. Children wake up each day clueless of the agenda, and yet they have a natural, peaceful trust that their parents will take care of them, regardless of what the day brings. When we seek to walk as they do, we are freed up from the pride and panic that can beat us down - and we can instead simply rest happily in our Daddy's arms, for our hope is in Him alone.

Father, forgive me that I am not more often like a weaned child in your arms, but instead I cry out to you for answers, for clarity, for more light - when what I desperately need more than these things is simple trust that You will show me exactly what I need to know, when I need to know it, 

each baby step of the way.