I keep waiting for things to get easy.
I keep thinking that I’ll suddenly have confidence and clarity, but so far, I only have a few good days to hold up in triumph.
Don’t get me wrong.
I like the good days.
Those are the ones where I’m bold and talkative and feel pretty good about myself.
Eventually though, I start to fold, question my abilities, and look for a good hiding spot. It’s kind of a predictable, vicious, self-absorbed cycle. And I’m over it.
I’ve been waiting for God to change me, to suddenly empower me with that spirit of love, power, and self-discipline.
I’ve been idling, thinking somehow he’s going to transform this little worm into a bold, beautiful butterfly. And until he gives me that holy makeover, I’m staying on hold.
That’s how it is, isn’t it?
We want to have the answers, the direction, the “victory” before we get started. We want to know that if we write the book, dream the dream, practice the most, that it will pay off, that it won’t all be for nothing.
And God says, in that quiet way that he does, “Keep writing, keep dreaming, keep walking. For I know the plans I have for you…plans for a hope and a future.”
It would seem he means for us take hold of those plans now, not in some distant, cloud-framed future.
And the longer I wait around for this “change” to occur in me, for some insight into my success, for clarity, then the longer it will actually take for me to get there.
Don’t get me wrong.
I do believe God changes us.
He works on us.
He helps us grow.
He wants more for us.
But I’m starting to think that we can’t experience any of that “more” until we get up and do something.
Maybe this something that we do isn’t what we’ll end up doing.
Maybe the dream and all the practice are just steps on the path, bricks stacked up to make a wall.
Maybe all this trying and failing and falling and crawling works together in the master’s hand to create a tapestry that becomes a life well lived. One where he has taken our weak attempts and faint heart and imbued them with his spirit. One where all the bricks we’ve laid turn out to be a castle.
It’s a holy weaving together of a little life and an all-powerful God.
So here I go, still lacking in love, not being disciplined, and feeling terribly weak. But here I go. God has done his part. Now it’s my turn.
“May the works of my hands and the meditations of my heart be pleasing to him.”