I think life is a little like painting. You can’t always tell what needs a second coat until the first one is dry. Changing who you are can’t always be rushed or accomplished in one fell swoop. It takes time and the patience to sometimes come full circle, to walk places you’ve already been, and learn what you thought you already knew.

We often impatiently look for the instant while God is patiently affecting us through the incremental.

Today, whilst going for a run, I noticed that there has been a shift in the way I ask God for things in the past year or two.   It’s a relatively subtle change, but one that I believe has been important in my life and in my relationship with Christ.

In the past, I typically would seek wisdom from God in one way:  ”God, please show me what to do in this situation. Please make it clear so that I will know the right thing to do.”  Or I might say “God, if this is Your will, please open the doors. If it isn’t, please close them.”  Something like that.  Very familiar…very common.

What I noticed this afternoon is that I very seldom pray like this anymore.

Experience has taught me that God is rarely going to tell me what to do before I do it.  He’s rarely going to give me a sign or impression that will give me 100% confidence in a course of action.  More likely, He will equip me for these things in small ways that sometimes are easily missed and often unseen when I am not looking for them.  These small nudges come in a million different forms: people, scripture, circumstances, feelings, ad infinitum.  The result is my continued sanctification (which is God’s will and promise for us all).

I tried to think of an analogy for this and I will admit I did not come up with anything perfectly fitting.  My first instinct is that this is like a path throught the forest that only He can see.  That he keeps me in the clear places between the dense forest on each side, even though I can’t see the big picture. I can’t see where the path is going.

Another example I thought of is the way a vine grows towards the sun. It never sees a plan or gets specific instructions, but its environment results in a very distinct change in the direction of its growth.  I thin it’s a bit like this with us.

The point is this:  God is sovereign.  He knows all, sees all, and cares for all.  He is the guarantor of my life. The non-refundable deposit for my sanctification, so to speak.  If this is true, if I can trust God with the outcome, I have no need to know specifics.  I don’t need to pray for a map when the very universe I have the privilige of living in exists and progresses at the discretion of God and God alone.  He has a million ways to lead me in His will and it seems presumptuous to ask for only one.

I think I used to pray like this because it left me in control in someway.  It was a bit like telling God “I’ll do what you want to do if you send me the instructions.”

Now I pray “God, give me wisdom. Help me to see truth instead of lies. Help me to seek light instead of dark. Guide me in Your paths. May the outcome bring glory to You.”

This, at least in my case, helps me remember that I am small and He is big.  That His ways are higher than mine.  That my plans are so short sighted and laughable next to His.

Yesterday I was reading at the White Hart when a homeless man sat down a few tables away from me.  He sat at the table, staring almost blankly ahead, a cup of coffee in front of him on the table. Occassionally he brought the mug to his lips, spilling coffee all over the table as he set it back down. 

As in other situations like this, I had conflicting thoughts:  On the one hand, I was thankful that Ed graciously provides coffee to this man, even though he is certainly a deterrent to business.  But on the other hand, I worried about my own convenience. I thought things like:
He probably smells.
I hope he doesn’t talk to me.
and I wonder how long he’ll be here.

It was not long before I became aware that the whole room was beginning to smell terribly.  I looked around for obvious suspects.  Could it be the fish the woman across from me was eating?  Could it be the pages of the old book I was reading?  Could it be a mixture of the twain? No, that couldn’t be it. It was the silent, coffee drinking man a couple of tables away. 

I held my ground. I continued to sit, trying my best ignore him and the smell. I paid extra attention to my book.

After about 5 minutes, the smell became unbearable. I decided to abandon my post.  I began packing up my belongings. As I did so, I noticed that the man sitting between me and the homeless man–a professor in the engineering school at Liberty–got up and went to the counter. I saw him talking with the barista.  I thought to myself he must be asking if something can be done about the stench.

I continued to get my things together as quickly as I could without looking like I was running from a fire.  As I finished and walked towards the door, the professor came back. He walked up to the homeless man who was encouraging my exit and said…

“If you would like to eat something,  go order something up front. I’ve taken care of it.”

As I walked out, I felt very convicted.  Both of us had experienced the same smell…he moreso than I by simple proximity, and we had both chosen our response.  I had chosen to run. He had chosen to show love.  Just like Jesus did and would have. 

“Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.”
- Jesus, Matthew 25:40b