Katie-did

When will we learn that we’re not all we’re cracked up to be? When will we learn that we’ll never achieve anything by fretting and fussing and living on adrenaline, by planning and scheming and trying to force life to go our way — except perhaps a collection of ulcers and some variation on neurosis.

I say, Let God be God!

I feel like I’m becoming more and more aware of the general “control freak” nature of our culture. It’s in the way we talk about our lives and the plans we have for our lives. It’s in the way we talk about family — how many kids we’ll have, how far apart, during what stage of life, etc. It’s in the way we talk about our jobs and our fear of bankruptcy or foreclosure. It’s in the way we compartmentalize our lives and manipulate our friendships.

I say, Let God be God!

How many children will I have? I don’t know the answer to that question. I don’t need to know. God knows the future, and I do not. That’s ok. I trust God’s plan. I DO know that I want to remain open to the children God would give me. Sure, it may be smart to take some measures to navigate pregnancies as wisely as we can — but I want to make sure those measures leave room for God to have the final say. Who am I to decide when we should or should not bring a new soul into the world? I trust that God knows the children He will give me. What, then, do I have to worry about? What use is there in my frivolous scheming?

How will we pay the mortgage? The car payment? How will we get clients for Nathan’s new business? I don’t know the answers to those questions. I don’t know exactly how God will provide. I can’t map out for you the logistics of our projected income. I do know that we are walking through the steps God has placed immediately before us. What, then, do I have to worry about? All I can do is continue to walk — continue to trust — through each new day. God has a plan. What, then, shall I fear?

What will my friends think of me if I am totally honest with them about who I am? What if they knew the darkest parts of me? I don’t know. But I DO know that my God already sees me, and that His grace is sufficient. Of what, then, should I be ashamed? What need have I to close myself off from anyone?

There is a prevailing arrogance which manifests itself in all sorts of ways. It starts with a well-meaning “plan,” with some “good intentions.”

It’s just that I want to put my “best foot forward.” It’s just that I want to be smart about raising a family. It’s just that I’m trying to be logical about finances. Etc, etc.

But when I start to think that I can CONTROL my financial situation (and forget that every dime is a gift from God), when I think that I should have the final say about when to cap the growth of my family (and forget that God has a specific plan for each child he gives me), and when I rely on lies more than truth to create an appealing image (and forget that God’s strength is displayed through my transparent weakness), I have crossed over from “well-meaning and logical” to arrogant and self-serving.

When we become control freaks, we do more than overwork our adrenal gland: we undermind God’s authority. (Wow, how many times have I done this!)

And I dare say I’m not the only one who struggles with this illness. I think much of American has been struck down by this hubris.

Not familiar with hubris, you say? It’s excessive pride. Frequently, in mythology or classic literature, hubris is a character’s major downfall — his Achilles heal — which leads to his demise.

So I wonder if this recession we find ourselves in is in fact a gift. Yes, we may be struggling physically and financially, but perhaps this is the kind of hardship we need to awaken our souls from sleepy self-absorption. Perhaps our country will start to see once again that there is no good thing apart from the Good given to us by the Father.

Perhaps we will be reminded that we need God, and that He is not, in fact, one that can be harnessed and bridled and subject to our whims.

Perhaps we will learn that God is God, and that we are not.

Though this lesson may cost much, I pray we learn. May we learn to let God be God, and may He have mercy on us for our blasphemous attempts to become god ourselves.

The other night we called 911.

Josie was choking, and we weren’t having any luck getting the whatever-it-was out of her throat. Finally she swallowed the thing (possibly a little leaf?), and the panicky moment was gone without incident. We called off the ambulance. A few minutes later, Josie didn’t seem to be phased in the least by her little episode.

Still, it got me thinking. What if she had gotten something bigger lodged in there? What if she would have died? We’re fortunate enough in this culture not to have many “near-death” experiences — but still, I got to thinking about the fragility of life.

Once when I was very small I fell into a pool and sank to the bottom. Thankfully, my oldest brother noticed and pulled me out.

Once I was choking (and maybe I passed out or something — I don’t remember the details) and my dad held me upside down by my feet and pleaded with God not to take my life

I hid in the dog house once, and though I was safe and sound, my parents went crazy looking for me. Mom thought I might have downed in the creek or fallen through one of the several holes in the floor of the barn (to land on the concrete below). I could have easily done either.

And then there’s my friend Ellen, whose life could have been taken when she fell from a tall ladder onto the concrete floor. Had it not been for the perfect timing of her father-in-law’s visit, she may have been lost.

And what about Mama Lily, a woman I only know through the “eyes to see 2009″ blog. She works with orphans in a volatile land plagued by evil men who rape and murder — but she lives on. She could easily be the victim of violence there, but she is spared daily.

It’s as if God looks down into the uncertain mess of the world and specifically chooses life for us — until, of course, it becomes time for Him to choose death. Our bodies are frail and our surroundings are precarious, but we are not at the mercy of chance. Our lives (and our deaths) are part of God’s plan, to be used for his glory.

How amazing it is to think about.

As the depths of the pool claimed my little body, God knelt down and whispered, “Not yet!” He directed my brother’s gaze and enabled his strong arms to save me.

As my Dad cried out, helpless before God, He swept in and said, “Not yet!” I was spared.

As a pool of blood spread from Ellen’s head, God cried “Not yet!” He aroused in John’s dad the desire to visit his daughter-in-law.

When a violent faction looms outside Mama Lily’s orphanage, God assures her: “Not yet!” She wakes to see another dawn.

….I just had to post these lyrics. (Probably because I get all introspective at night, but I’m pretty much exhausted, and so I’m inarticulate as well….so all I have to turn to is some good old Ben Harper magic.) =)

I, I have heard a hundred violins crying;

and I, I have seen a hundred white doves flying –

but nothing is as beautiful as when she believes, when she believes, when she believes

in me.

– Ben Harper

I think there’s something transcendent about the image of violins crying and white doves flying that I find profoundly beautiful.

(And now I’ve used up my max word capacity for the time being…)

=)