I face the dilemma daily, throughout the day.
God's will versus my will.
Trying to control what I do so I can get what I think i want or need.
Sometimes it seems to work, perhaps just enough to keep me doing it.
More and more, I'm seeing that it doesn't work.
Most recently:
Palm Sunday morning, I was cranky and unfulfilled at
church. The music and worship was not lifting my heart to God nor was it
satisfying me. Everything seemed to be a struggle. I found myself being
critical, having to bite my tongue again and again not to express aloud
my frustration.
On the way to a weekly prayer meeting Monday morning, I did a
quick check of Instagram and learned that while I was out
of sorts Sunday morning at Goodrich, my favorite Christian recording
artists had been featured for the full hour of worship across town at
First Baptist Church.
I felt crushed, sad, disappointed, even resentful --
because I would have thought some people would have let me know. (This
is the group with Norman ties that I've written lots of stories about,
as recently as last summer. "I thought they were friends," I heard me telling myself. I feel a bit
betrayed -- not unlike how I felt when the outdoor editor, a friend, let an awful
headline run atop a story, with my byline, about the company for whom my husband works.)
I quickly turned on my phone's voice memo, to record my angst as I cried out to God for understanding, forgiveness and help.
"I guess it wasn't my assignment. So while I was
being critical and unhappy and unfulfilled at Goodrich, Point of Grace
was singing at First Baptist Church in Norman with orchestra, da da da
da da. So God, I just want to trust you, that it wasn't my assignment. I
need to trust You, with my fear of missing out. I'm OK. God, you are
God. You are God. I want You to be Lord of my life. I trust You.
I'm meant for little things. Or things that look little to me.
Help me be OK with that.
Some things will never make sense, and that's
OK. It's actually better when they don't make sense, and I just trust
-- trust, trust, trust You.
I kind of asked if they would be there, and I
guess I could have done more. And I didn't. So I just have to trust that
that wasn't my assignment. I wasn't meant to be there.
Oh Lord. (sigh)
Lord, help me know what you would have me do. And help me do it. To Your glory. Your glory, Lord.
Thank you. I love you. I trust you. I praise You. I seek You. Help me to obey You. In Christ's name I pray. Amen.
By Tuesday afternoon, I still hadn't let go.
At a routine doctor's appointment, we talked some about my FOMO and how that
has often fueled anxieties and attempts to control. And how my default
response when things don't go my way is to get frustrated with myself,
to turn criticism and blame on myself. "If only I were different ....
better" .... these things would turn out how I want them to.
I've been praying about my selfishness, self-centeredness and fear. And here it was again, all wrapped up in this one example.
I was figuratively kicking myself for not checking the
website or Facebook page of First Baptist Church, which quickly would
have informed me Point of Grace was singing there for the whole service
Palm Sunday. It would have been so easy. I may have even thought of it. So
why didn't I check? Not long after that, I saw I had received a "bandsintown" email, that I had not bothered to open while we were in Washington, DC., that announced Point of Grace would be singing at the Norman church.
That's where the idea is strengthened that it wasn't
my assignment. I've seen times when, out of the blue, the thought
occurs to do something that normally would not have entered my mind or seemed possible, but turns out to be just the right thing. Singing with my mom and sister in the choir at their
church in Gainesville at Christmas comes to mind. I give God the credit
when those things happen. And in this year, this season, this month of
my life, I can see how that is what happened here. I was supposed to be
at Goodrich, not where Point of Grace was singing. God wanted me at
Goodrich.
So if I want to be mad or frustrated at someone,
maybe that should be directed to God. Of course, I'm not comfortable
with that. I'm more comfortable with directing it at myself.
When I listened to my audio memo Tuesday, I could hear my
voice cracking with emotion. I was clearly on the verge of tears. When I
looked at the FBC Facebook page while writing and saw how actively they had
promoted Point of Grace, at least among the church's members, the
emotion welled back up.
How many times am I going to go through this?
Things that I have invested quite a bit of time and
energy and passion into -- whether as a reporter, a friend, a supporter,
a fan, a member -- bring disappointment, discouragement and confusion.
Here I am again, questioning what is important. What is my purpose? What matters?
When I sat down to write on Tuesday, the thought that had just
crossed my mind was something like this: I have to let go. This struggle
won't end until I let go.
It's not that God is mean or punishing me or testing
me. It's just the way it is. (There's probably a better explanation,
that shows how it's the way it is because of God's love, but I can't
think of it right now, nor does it really matter whether I know the
reason.)
Part of letting go is stepping out in faith to do
those things that come to mind to help others. It's my thinking that
ALWAYS gets in the way. I start thinking, wondering, worrying about how
it will work out without me getting overwhelmed or tired or some other
discomfort or messing up or missing out on something else.
That's why, when I read a selection in 12 Step recovery literature where the writer suggested, when faced with a problem, to "Think, Pray, Act," the realization that came to me was my
thinking gets in the way. I'm better to Pray, Trust, Act, or possibly:
Pray. Act. Trust.
Tuesday afternoon, I planned to visit some people in the hospital after my doctor's appointment. But when I started thinking, I couldn't figure out how to arrange it all. So I went home and ate lunch. And then I started writing. Those are both important things, and the day probably unfolded exactly as it should have. Time seems to be bearing that out.
As I read back through this, when I got to the part
about maybe my anger or frustration should be directed at God, the word
"Acceptance" came to mind.
Acknowledge my sadness and disappointment, even my
confusion. Sit with the feelings a while. But not too long. Then let
them go. Trust that God is in control and that God loves me and knows I
love Him, and He is working to make whatever I do, no matter how lame it
seems to me, better, as I seek to take one step after another in
partnership with Him.
Accept that "nothing, absolutely happens in God's world by mistake."
Acceptance is the key to my relationship with God today. (Starting with accepting that God is God and I am not, and nothing, absolutely nothing happens in God's world by mistake.)
... never just sit and do nothing while waiting for Him to tell me what to do.
... do whatever is in front of me to be done ... leave the results up to Him; however it turns out, that's God's will for me. (Italicized passages from the "Big Book" of Alcoholic Anonymous.)
Do I believe this? Here I go thinking again. Let me not overthink it. Yes, I believe this. I can say I believe this.
That was Tuesday. Now it's Saturday night. The day between the sadness of Christ's Crucifixion remembered on Good Friday and the joy of Christ's resurrection celebrated on Easter Sunday.
I am aware that I've spent more time reading, meditating on and even studying the Bible these 40 days (not counting Sundays) of Lent, leading up to Easter, than I have during any other time in my life. I can't say that I feel greater peace in my life. I do have a stronger hope that an important transformation can occur that will enable me to live my faith -- faith in the Resurrected Christ -- in humble service to the glory of God.
That was Tuesday. Now it's Saturday night. The day between the sadness of Christ's Crucifixion remembered on Good Friday and the joy of Christ's resurrection celebrated on Easter Sunday.
I am aware that I've spent more time reading, meditating on and even studying the Bible these 40 days (not counting Sundays) of Lent, leading up to Easter, than I have during any other time in my life. I can't say that I feel greater peace in my life. I do have a stronger hope that an important transformation can occur that will enable me to live my faith -- faith in the Resurrected Christ -- in humble service to the glory of God.
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