Heartbeats
I have so many ideas swimming around in this slightly disproportionate head of mine. I feel as if I have to write as much or more for my own release
than for anyone else's enjoyment. While I most certainly hope that my writing
has been encouraging to all of you, the readers, I feel as if my truest motivation for writing is simply the maintenance of my sanity. I hate to admit that I feel I'm being a
bit selfish, but when God puts something in my heart, I just have to do it.
There isn't a lot of space for figuring out the why's or the what's or the
who's. God takes care of those things. For now, He says, "write," so
here I am, writing.
Have you ever had a passion that burns so deeply inside
of yourself, you can't quite pinpoint its origin? It seems to cover the whole
of your being and just pulse here and there like an irregular heartbeat. That's
where I am right now. I’ll be happily carrying on with my day when all of a
sudden, a thumping starts going off in the lobes of my brain like a war drum. Bump
bump. Bump bump. It’s not always an idea. Sometimes, it’s just sheer desire to
pick up a pen or have a seat at my computer and just start writing down the
thoughts I know are bound to flow every time I rip off the doors blocking the
channels. It’s often that I arrive at a thesis after I have been writing for
awhile because I’m actually learning the lesson I’m writing about at the very
moment I am writing about it. Or at least I’m learning that I learned a lesson
already that just needed to be put into words.
Do God’s gifts come with return receipts?
So, here is this place I’m in. I’m facing real situations
every day I’m alive. Dissatisfied voices are demanding my attention and
difficult things are being asked and required of me. I need a stable job. I
need to sort out school bills. I need to be more involved in helping at home. I
need to spend more time with God. I need to spend more time with my family and
friends. I need to get some semblance of a plan, even a short-term plan, for
accomplishing the things I know I’m on this earth to accomplish.
So, I’m seeking the job; I’m trying to figure out how to pay
the bills. I’m doing more around the house, and I’m seeking God with all the
heart and fervor I know how to muster. I’m spending more time with my siblings
and friends, trying to simply tell them how much I love them way more often
than I attempt to give them advice. That whole “short-term plan” thing is still
nothing more than a seemingly-perpetual work in progress.
Doing all of these things well requires a set of skills and
some knowledge that I am pretty sure I don’t have. So, I pray. I pray, “God,
show me what you want me to do. Show me how I can get better at this or that.
Please open up the door for the right job, as I am actively seeking one. Help
me be a better brother, son, and friend. Please give me some small idea of what
Your plan is for my foggy future, even if it’s just an idea of what I should be
doing today…five minutes from now…at this very moment.”
How does He respond? He hands me a pen and a blank sheet of
paper. That’s it. I have no idea what in the blazes I’m supposed to do with a
pen and a blank sheet of paper. Can a pen get me a job offer? Can this paper help me
put broken pieces in a family back together? Do either one of these inanimate objects
magically transform into gold I can use to pay bills? Or perhaps, I’m not
actually supposed to use them! Maybe, some angelic oracle will appear any
second and impart a supernatural word of wisdom about the content of my daunting
future! No? Okay, fine. What?! And then…
Office supplies at the dinner table
Then, I get it—not all of it, mind you. But I understand
something. Sometimes, we ask God for specific things—knowledge, assistance,
skills or talents that seem vital to dealing with certain situations, and
sometimes He gives them. Other times He doesn’t. It is often the case that He
gives us gifts, tools, and character traits that we would never have expected
or even thought to ask for. They don’t always seem appropriate. It can feel
like He is playing a cruel trick. “God, You said that if I asked you for bread,
you wouldn’t give me a stone!” But He doesn’t give you a stone. He gives you a
stapler, and now it’s your job to figure out why the Good Father would give you
a stapler instead of the logical, comfortable, sustaining piece of bread you
asked for.
Why is it that God’s methods of imparting grace can seem so
irrelevant? Does He give “useless gifts?” Is there any purpose in carrying a
stapler into a food fight? You can’t see how these “gifts” apply to your
situation. Here’s my thought: maybe they don’t. Maybe, God doesn’t even see
your situation as an individual entity, threatening to cave on you at any
moment. Maybe these insufferable moments of life look too small to God to even
qualify as “a giant that needs to be slain.” Perhaps it looks more like a pesky traffic jam that He knows will be over as soon as you get to your next exit.
Pardon my melting pot of metaphors, but I am trying to drive home this point: God doesn’t always give you what you ask for; He gives you what He knows you need.
He is busy preparing you for the much more complete, macroscopic picture.
Why am I writing when I feel like I should be actively doing
anything else to change my current situation? Because God has sewn it into my
very DNA. Because it feels almost involuntary, it is so natural. Because it is
the stapler He handed me when I asked for a slice of bread. Because,
according to Him, it isn’t time to be doing these other things, and I’m not
currently equipped by Him to do anything else. Because even when His gifts feel
irrelevant, they still qualify as a few of the endless good gifts that come
from His perfectly good heart. So, I’ll write until He tells me to do
something else. I’ll keep my ears open until I hear from Him about what my next
move is. I’ll keep my head up, my eyes on Him, my pen to the page, and my
stapler at the ready as I charge full-force into a food fight.
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