Carrying Light, Not Load
Yesterday, during my Bible study on animals in Scripture, I was certain the donkey would teach me a lesson about stubbornness. After all, isn't that what donkeys are famous for? But God had something entirely different and far more beautiful in store for me.
As I studied the account of Jesus riding into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, it hit me like a thunderbolt. That little donkey wasn't chosen because of what he could carry but because of who he would carry. He wasn't meant to haul heavy burdens. He was meant to carry the Light of the World. And here's where it gets personal: we're just like that donkey.
How many times have I trudged through my days feeling like a pack mule, weighed down by worry, responsibility, and those endless "what-ifs" that plague my thoughts? I've rounded my shoulders under the weight of "should-haves" and stumbled over obligations that were never mine to bear. I've been so busy carrying the load that I forgot I was meant to carry the Light.
The Undistracted Palm
I recently delved into the fascinating world of Leonardo Da Vinci's mind. Did you know he had hundreds of notebooks bursting with ideas for inventions, studies, paintings, and sculptures? The remarkable thing about Da Vinci wasn't just his genius but his peculiar habit of rarely finishing one project before jumping to another. His brilliant mind constantly churned with new concepts, leaving a trail of half-completed masterpieces.
Oh, how I feel a kinship with Leonardo! My desk drawer contains a notebook that's practically bursting with ideas for devotions, children's picture books, stories, and other literary ventures. Some mornings I wake with such clarity about a new book or story concept that I can hardly wait to scribble it down before it evaporates like morning dew.
"I'll finish my current project first," I tell myself firmly. Yet two hours later, I'm sketching outlines for the new idea while my half-edited manuscript sits neglected on my computer.
When Plans Go Pear-Shaped
Have you ever had one of those days where Murphy's Law isn't just a saying but your personal reality? Jason and I experienced that miserable phenomenon this week. It began with my writing. Every task I attempted was met with utter frustration. What should have taken a couple of minutes ended up taking over an hour. It seemed like no matter which way I turned, I encountered a stumbling block or a brick wall. Seriously?
When we finally surrendered to the technological gremlins and decided to take our daily walk with Tess, the Welsh weather joined the conspiracy. The moment we stepped outside, the clouds unleashed what felt like the entire Irish Sea upon our heads. Lovely!
"It's just a light drizzle," Jason said optimistically as we trudged along, our clothes growing heavier with each step. By the time we made it home, we resembled three drowned rats (though Tess, admittedly, looked the most pitiful).
When Prayer Disappoints
"No, I don't believe in God, and if there is one, I don't want anything to do with Him."
The words were spoken with such anger that I paused before responding, but I couldn't ignore the urging from the Holy Spirit.
"May I ask why?" I inquired.
"Because I prayed just like I was taught, but God didn't answer. He didn't give me what I asked for. So either there isn't a God, or He's just not reliable."
My heart sank. This was not the first time I'd heard this reasoning for doubting God and His goodness. Since arriving in Wales, I've encountered this view repeatedly. How does the concept of prayer become so misconstrued? Where do people get the idea that God is merely a genie in a bottle, waiting to grant their every request? Sadly, it often starts in our pulpits.
When God Overhears
Have you ever been caught talking about someone behind their back? I have, and it's not a pleasant experience. There's that moment when you realize the person you've been discussing has been standing just around the corner, hearing every word. Your face flushes, your stomach drops, and you desperately wish for a convenient sinkhole to appear beneath your feet.
In Numbers 12, Miriam and Aaron experienced something far worse than being caught by another person. They were caught by God Himself.
"And Miriam and Aaron spake against Moses because of the Ethiopian woman whom he had married: for he had married an Ethiopian woman. And they said, Hath the Lord indeed spoken only by Moses? hath he not spoken also by us? And the Lord heard it." (Numbers 12:1-2)
Did you catch that last part? "And the Lord heard it." Those four simple words should send shivers down our spines.