Monday, October 7, 2013

Journey to Trust - Control (Day 7)

I wash down the patio table, dust off the chairs and haul my lap top outside. It is one of "those" days - the one I've been longing for for months. Months of unrelenting heat and brassy skies that made sitting outdoors a foolish idea at best.

But this day - ah this perfect day - of gentle breezes and clear blue skies stretching from horizon to horizon - running from pastel borders to a brilliant blue center that makes the eyes ache with longing. There isn't a sound apart from the chatter of birds, the neighbor's crowing rooster (who has destroyed the mistaken notion that they only crow at the rising of the sun) and the gentle rustle of leaves in the old oaks.

If I had my way, all the days would be just like this one. We would wake up to crisp, clear mornings and sit on the front porch in the evening and watch the sky turn into an artist's pallet of glorious colors. It is a silly notion, for I have no power to control the weather - not one tiny bit. Nor the wisdom to manage it. For what of the need for rain and changing seasons and even calamities?

However, I somehow acquired the notion that life was a whole different kettle of fish. If you knew me well, it wouldn't take you long to discover I have made a valiant attempt to manage everything and everyone in my life almost single-handedly.  If worrying, manipulating, nagging and frantic praying could have done the trick, I would have accomplished my mission. Instead I made everyone around me frustrated at best and not a little resentful.

Never content to focus on today's worries, I tended to look ahead - to tomorrow, next week, even months down the road. By the time I had to face the worry head on, I was exhausted, fearful and frustrated. Frustrated because all my efforts hadn't changed one single thing.

I had, and have, much to learn about trust. Trying to be good enough so that God would bless my life with happiness and good things didn't work. I was hardly ever good enough, and even when I was bad things still happened. Nor could I control the bad things - couldn't prevent them from coming no matter how hard I tried. And they came - oh how they came - threatening to destroy faith altogether.

Something was terribly wrong with my whole way of thinking. I believe, looking back, I knew what it was. I just couldn't seem to change the habits of a life-time. Somehow I had skewed the reality of who God is and the way He works in our lives - reduced Him in a misguided attempt to make Him manageable.

I needed to get reacquainted. I didn't know that, but He did.