For You

Pho­to by Karen

I’m just com­ing to the stun­ning real­iza­tion that every­thing I do is for You. Every event in my life is designed to bring me clos­er to You. That is hard­ly ever my pur­pose, but that is always Your pur­pose. Not that I am a chess piece. I have absolute utter free will in every move I make. It grieves me to real­ize how often I have cho­sen to move away from You, by putting some­thing else ahead of You. It is almost like a chess match—I move, and You arrange it for my good. I move again (freely) and You arrange again. Your patience is incom­pre­hen­si­ble. Prayer is the human way to ask You how to move.

I’m not naïve. Most of human­i­ty is out there mov­ing for our selves. We live with­in a sys­tem that encour­ages and entices and seduces us to say “Me first.” That is what makes Jesus so unique. How can we think when He says “I am the way and the truth and the life,” that is His ego talk­ing? I always had a hard time with that verse, because I thought of all the peo­ple (fam­i­ly, many friends, good peo­ple) who reject You. But I don’t wor­ry about those peo­ple any­more because I believe that You will take care of them. I grieve that they don’t know the plea­sure of walk­ing through this life with You as their guide.

I try to fig­ure out why it is so hard for most of us to believe in You, or at least in how You have pre­sent­ed Your­self to us. The nat­ur­al stuff—the mir­a­cle of life, the out­doors, the fam­i­ly, friendship—I get that. Life is a gift. But then we get into the Bible, and the his­to­ry of humankind, and Your inter­ac­tion with us…and You become a murki­er fig­ure. In the Old Tes­ta­ment, You some­times seem as emo­tion­al as us, which is scary. Again, I understand…that is why You sent Jesus…to show us what You are real­ly like. Why are we so unwill­ing to believe?

In my minis­cule human wis­dom, the great­est obstruc­tion I can iden­ti­fy is pride. We have to give up the throne. “You must increase and I must decrease.” Oh, but we want to hold on so dearly—we want every event to define us. We’ll give You cred­it, but we want the glo­ry. To fol­low You means to give up the lead. It’s like ask­ing a hum­ming­bird to share. The great­est is ser­vant of all—that is con­trary to our egos. I want what I want. But we are cre­at­ed in Your image. You can teach us how to let go of ourselves.

The truth is inescapable—I did not cre­ate myself. I found myself here, I did not put myself here. Unless I am an acci­dent (I’m not), some­one (You) made me. And some­thing deep in my heart knows that You are here, and that You enjoy being with me. And as I begin to get the barest glimpse of who You are (thank You, Jesus), I real­ize this is the most won­der­ful joy­ous news (the gospel) that could ever be. I am liv­ing in the Kingdom—and any­one can! It is not a coun­try club—admission is free!

You observe us—I know You do. We bring You so much tragedy and sor­row and frus­tra­tion. But I know that we also bring You joy and laugh­ter and won­der and com­pas­sion and excite­ment and appre­ci­a­tion and (if it is pos­si­ble) sur­prise. Rather than fear­ing the micro­scope, I want to embrace it. I acknowl­edge that every­thing I do is for You. My life’s pur­pose is to move back into inti­ma­cy with You. I pray for the grace and guid­ance to move for­ward as You would have me. You are the pot­ter and I am the clay.

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