I sometimes give my mistakes too much credit. I see them as life-changing, destiny-rerouting, God’s-sovereignty-usurping mistakes that will ruin my life (and probably the lives of those around me too).
I didn’t realize I had this problem until recently. I was obsessively fretting about my (non-sinful) behavior and choices I made the other day when I was interrupted by this truth: “You can’t thwart God’s plans. You’re simply not strong enough.”
I didn’t throw a wrench in Jeremiah 29:11 with my minuscule decisions the other day. Proverbs 16:33 reminds me, “The lot is cast in the lap, but its every decision is from the Lord.”
I’m happy being a little one.
“When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,
what is man that you are mindful of him,
and the son of man that you care for him?” (Psalm 8:3-4)
It is a great comfort and relief—remembering my insignificance. And it’s an even greater comfort knowing God still cares for me, calling me His child.
So I can relax and step out in faith even when I don’t know exactly what God’s plan is for my life. Because if I knew it all, I wouldn’t even need faith.
Faith is walking toward Jesus. It doesn’t matter what terrain we are walking on—water, sand, pavement—because the goal is not fancy faith. It’s not even faith itself. We walk by faith in order to worship Him.
I like running on treadmills. I can maintain a consistent speed, in an air-conditioned environment. I can track the details of calories burned, miles run (which can easily be converted to kilometers), and I can even watch TV. Rain or shine.
There’s nothing wrong with any of that for physically working out, but Christian treadmills are dead. The form of my walking might look perfect. I am less likely to stumble, but if there is no Jesus at the end, it is in vain.
The purpose of faith is worship. Faith and hope will pass away when we see Him face to face, but love will continue. We will not walk on stormy seas in heaven, but we will fall on our knees in worship.
Faith is anticipating, expectant, forward-looking—chin up, shoulders back, march ahead toward Jesus.
“Truly You are the Son of God.”
Patting myself on the back today because it’s officially been over one year since I started this blog. I’ve infrequently posted, no doubt, but I haven’t abandoned it entirely, which is historically the path I’ve gone down with my blogs.
Maybe it’s because in the past I’ve blogged openly—sharing posts with my friends and encouraging people to read my blog. Frankly, I have a variety of mostly legitimate reasons for not continuing with my past blogs, but an audience, even a small one, can be a burden. The pressure of perfection hinders creation.
There is something freeing and exhilarating about posting something in a public forum that will nevertheless remain 99% private. I want to share this with my friends someday, but for now I don’t want pressure.