I am bad with goals. I gaze upon a five year plan with fear and trepidation. It just seems so large, and I'm terrible at breaking it down into bite-sized pieces to swallow along the way. And it paralyzes me to any type of action.
"In five years, I want to be doing THIS. I want to have accomplished THAT. In five years I will have CHANGED my life."
Gulp.
But maybe it's not about five years. Maybe if it's about today, I can stand it. The choices I make today, the decisions and directions I go in. If I have to change my life in one giant leap, I don't think I'm going to make it. But maybe there's hope for me if every small step makes a difference.
So today I'm going to do something that changes my life. Hopefully tomorrow, too. Who knows, I might just do it the day after that, as well. And in five years I may wake up and say "Well what do you know, I'm somewhere different than where I started..."
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Without Borders
I look at the faith of others sometimes - the stories of struggle and trust in the Bible - and I desperately desire to be that type of woman. The one who believes that the slightest brush of her savior's cloak will heal her.
Sometimes I wonder if that faith will ever happen to me. And then other times I realize that it can, but I have to choose it.
Last fall I was working at a weekend-long women's retreat. Sunday morning, I was at the end of the breakfast buffet with my plate, reaching for a fork, when a woman came up to me and we exchanged a few pleasant words about the weekend. After a few moments, she started to walk to her table, but then paused.
Turning back, she asked me a question. When my answer was "no," she nodded and again went to walk away but almost immediately turned back again. "This may not make sense based on your answer," she said almost in a befuddled manner, "But I feel like I just need to tell you..." and proceeded to tell me about something very specific that was going to happen in my life.
As she left me standing there, she looked confused that she even felt a need to say it, like it made no sense to her. She couldn't have known that what she said just directly contradicted a fear that I'd been struggling with for several years. She couldn't have known - but God did. And nudged by him, she delivered the message of a promise.
Amazingly, driving home later that day, I began to talk myself out of it. Before long, I had a list of reasons why I'd imaged it all. Then I realized this was it, I was facing my decision: I could return to my familiar, boxed-in faith, or I could choose to believe that God had spoken to me, and claim the promise he had given. Both options were there, I simply had to reach out and take one. Desperate for the hope and freedom that a kind of faith would bring, I made my choice and leapt for God.
Even typing it now, reasons not to believe it still try to wedge their way into my head. But that's just Satan's lie that God is not as big as he is, is not as capable as he is, is not as loving.
A few months later, I heard this song for the first time, and that sealed it. Trust without borders; and God's grace is amazing enough that it is ours for the choosing. My God spoke to me, and I will not let that go.
Sometimes I wonder if that faith will ever happen to me. And then other times I realize that it can, but I have to choose it.
Last fall I was working at a weekend-long women's retreat. Sunday morning, I was at the end of the breakfast buffet with my plate, reaching for a fork, when a woman came up to me and we exchanged a few pleasant words about the weekend. After a few moments, she started to walk to her table, but then paused.
Turning back, she asked me a question. When my answer was "no," she nodded and again went to walk away but almost immediately turned back again. "This may not make sense based on your answer," she said almost in a befuddled manner, "But I feel like I just need to tell you..." and proceeded to tell me about something very specific that was going to happen in my life.
As she left me standing there, she looked confused that she even felt a need to say it, like it made no sense to her. She couldn't have known that what she said just directly contradicted a fear that I'd been struggling with for several years. She couldn't have known - but God did. And nudged by him, she delivered the message of a promise.
Amazingly, driving home later that day, I began to talk myself out of it. Before long, I had a list of reasons why I'd imaged it all. Then I realized this was it, I was facing my decision: I could return to my familiar, boxed-in faith, or I could choose to believe that God had spoken to me, and claim the promise he had given. Both options were there, I simply had to reach out and take one. Desperate for the hope and freedom that a kind of faith would bring, I made my choice and leapt for God.
Even typing it now, reasons not to believe it still try to wedge their way into my head. But that's just Satan's lie that God is not as big as he is, is not as capable as he is, is not as loving.
A few months later, I heard this song for the first time, and that sealed it. Trust without borders; and God's grace is amazing enough that it is ours for the choosing. My God spoke to me, and I will not let that go.
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