I was very young when You gave me the talent for writing, Father. I know You expect Your children to use the talents You give to them. But in the midst of my pain, I've had no desire to write. I have turned my back on Your gift and wallowed in self-pity. My mantra has been "Why me?"
Recently, I've come to realize You're saying, "Why not you, Child? Aren't you running a race? Aren't You in training for eternity with Me? People in training must expect life to be harder. How can you expect to win the race if you wimp out during the training? Olympic contenders don't have time for self-pity! They want to win, so they endure injury, fatigue, isolation, betrayal, and whatever or whoever tries to derail them."
I always end up back at this point, don't I? I waste time complaining, massaging my ego, and believing my own excuses for quitting. It seems to follow a time of comparing myself to those around me. The detail I overlook is that I am Yours. I am expected to be in the world, but not of the world. As a soldier in Your army, I cannot compare myself to civilians. Why haven't I seen this before? Perhaps I was not equipped to receive this revelation until now.
Oh, Father. Scripture after scripture has been going through my consciousness and I'm ashamed of my self-absorption. "To whom much is given, much is required." You expect me to invest my talent, not bury it out of fear! You have me in training for a higher purpose.
You tell me, in Hebrews 12, I am surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, and I must lay aside every weight and the sin that so easily ensnares me [self-absorption, perhaps?] and run with endurance the race that You have set before me. I am to look to Jesus, the author and finisher of my faith, not to those who seem to have an easier life than I.
It's as if I heard You tell me to push rock after rock. Obediently, I pushed and pushed, but could not budge any of the larger ones. Finally, I succumbed to self-pity and exhaustion, and complained I could not move these rocks. And You said, "Child, I never told you to move the rocks. I told you to push the rocks. And look at all the strength you've built. Now you're ready to be of service to Me."
Oh, Father. I'm ready! I can do all things through Christ Who strengthens me!
1 comment:
Why have you taken credit for "ROCKS THAT WON'T BUDGE" when you did not write it? I copyrighted it in 2004 when I published "Conversations With My Father." Please remove it from your blog at once.
Post a Comment