Today was simple, like most of my Saturdays are. I did some laundry. I sat, I waited, I read. I called my dad. I really relished in the ability to just sit and study, sit and process, sit and think. Sometimes those moments are the only ones to make you realize how hyped up you are every other second of every day, each week. When we're in the midst of them, they're simply our normal.
And that stark contrast between my stillness and activity made me think about what my "normal" is right now, and what my normal has been for however many years. And I thought about all the people I've known and all the stories I've heard - of their normal, with things just happening and happening. The cyclical nature of it all appears endless. Like those long genealogical lists in the Bible. There are patterns and flows to life that we as human beings cling to. Structurally, within families; nationally, within our governments; culturally, with our holidays and social units; and personally, within ourselves. At some point, we decide to stick to patterns and reactions and behaviors and traditions until one day we steamroll into making that simply "our way".
It might not be a bad way. But in ourselves, it's an overly structured way. An autopilot-driven way. Maybe even an expected way, whatever that might mean to one. And most of the time, we often don't allow ourselves to sit still long enough to thoughtfully consider it. To wonder if we could or should be changing, adapting, growing. To even just wonder.
This is how we get stuck in sinful patterns, too. Being always grumbling, always selfish, always angry. They are taught to us or observed by us or felt by us and learned and practiced and rehearsed. Over and over, without examination. Or maybe even with examination, but without change.
It's not just how we get stuck in sin; it is how we get stuck period.
Or to flip it, maybe we do a positive thing for so long that the thing loses its eternal significance for us - though it may be a very good thing. An act of service, an annual fundraiser. A weekly visit. And for the Christian, maybe even the Gospel loses its saving power to us for a time. We develop a disconnect, a season of hardening, a time of hitting walls.
How aware are we of our very own lives?
Even simply down to the very reason why you take a shower at the time you do. Is it habit, or function, or both? Does it matter? Does it change? Could you change?
This is easier for some than others. I tend to cling to habit. There can be comfort in that.
But what if.
What if Peter and Andrew didn't leave their fishing nets to follow Jesus, or Matthew his tax collector's booth?
What if the rich young ruler gave up his possessions?
The book of Ecclesiastes tells us there is a time and a season for everything. Seasons are cyclical. Our worlds are cyclical. Though the Lord himself doesn't change like shifting shadows (James 1:17) and His word and truth remain constant (amen), God works through changes. He makes us new creations. He transforms us by renewing our minds. He ushers us from death to life.
Creations. Transformation. Renewal. New Life.
There are blessings that are what we would describe to be constants. Our families and friends, hopefully. Our health, I pray. But those are not guaranteed for all, though they may be constants for some, even most.
There are blessings in constants, yes, but there are blessings in changes, too. Often we aren't blessed until we change.
Change happens in obedience. Change happens when we trust. Change happens when we worship. Change happens when we pray.
Change happens when He changes us.
So as I sit here, thinking about change, I am trying to be open to letting go of the dark and rigid corners of my heart that I have so childishly kept to myself - clinging to these useless, empty parts of me that God wants to nourish for change.
The Israelites told Moses they'd rather be slaves to the Egyptians, eating their meat and bread to the full (interesting how they chose to remember things), than to be struggling in their freedom in the wilderness dependent exclusively on God's provision. (Exodus 16:3) How foolish they were. How foolish we are. How little perspective they had. How true of us, today. How true of me.
Our God supplies all our needs to us in Christ Jesus. We are unworthy, yet He cares for us. Time and again He proves His faithfulness, and time and again we grumble and cling to our comforts, fearing change. He redeemed the Israelites, and He redeems us still.
He gives us His word as a written document of His lovingkindness toward us.
He gave us His son to restore us and give us hope as His children under His heavenly care.
He sends us His spirit to live within us and inspire us to begin the changes He has for us. To whisper His still, small voice in our ears for action or inaction. To give us our quiet courage and incentive to be all that He wants us to be in Him as we answer His call to change.
There are certainly changes that are obvious, changes that are big.
But I believe a lot of God's changes are small. They are dizzying, wonderful, frightening, and massive to us in feeling, yet they never leave the bounds of our fleshly walls.
When we effort to begin to embark on these changes with Him, we have already begun changing.
And we might be so terribly uncomfortable with some of them. But that's okay. Because we know and can trust the One who is changing us.
He is able.
He is good.
He will work.
He loves you.
His ways are perfect.
His timing is perfect.
He is.
And because He is, and He calls us His, our butterflies aren't aimless. They are the power of Christ within us. Stirring us up, healing our hearts, and fashioning us into being more like His Son.
We are maturing, yes, we are shifting, yes -- but we are never alone.
It just simply must begin with a change.
 |
| Source |
---
Behold, I am doing a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert.
(Isaiah 43:19)
No comments:
Post a Comment