Invisible Lines and Impossible Standards
Have you ever felt like you're walking through a maze where the walls keep moving? Or perhaps trying to follow rules written in invisible ink? Welcome to the club! I've spent countless hours trying to decipher the unwritten social contract that seems to govern every interaction, only to find myself stumbling over invisible lines I didn't even know existed.
"Remind me about these things, but don't be a nag."
"Show initiative, but don't overstep."
"Give me all the information, but don't get bogged down in the details."
“Work hard, but don't overdo it."
"Rest, but don't be lazy."
The list of contradictory expectations goes on and on, enough to make anyone's head spin! Even in our spiritual lives, we often find ourselves trapped between seemingly opposing directives.
"Pray with faith, but don't be presumptuous."
"Trust God completely, but plan responsibly."
"Pour out your heart to God, but don't gripe or complain."
Martha, My Hero
Let me tell you something that might shock you: Martha is one of my Biblical heroes. I know—you're probably thinking, "Has she lost her marbles? Martha? The one Jesus gently rebuked?" But hear me out because Martha and I are like two peas in a very stressed-out pod. You see, I'm a recovering perfectionist. I'm the girl who color-codes her sock drawer and alphabetizes her spice rack. (Don't judge me; organization is next to godliness, right? No? Well, it should be!) Like Martha, I love the Lord with all my heart, but boy, oh boy, do I get distracted. It's like my brain is a puppy in a room full of squirrels—always chasing after the next worry or task.
I've walked a mile in Martha's sandals, and let me tell you, it's not a comfortable stroll. I've let my to-do list become my taskmaster, pushing my time with God to the bottom of the heap. And just like Martha, I've learned the hard way that putting chores before the Lord is a recipe for spiritual indigestion.
Beauty From Ashes
A few days ago, I shared with you a devotion about fireweed and how it can remind us of the fleeting nature of life. Today, I'd like to share another encouraging thought the Lord showed me through this remarkable plant.
You see, fireweed isn't just known for its brief but beautiful life cycle. It's also famous for its uncanny ability to thrive in the most unlikely places. Where forest fires have ravaged the land, mudslides have torn through hillsides, or human activity has left scars on the earth, fireweed is often the first to appear, painting the landscape with its cheerful purple hues.
As I gazed at the fireweed, I couldn't help but marvel at God's intricate design. He created a plant that not only survives in damaged areas but flourishes there. It's as if the Lord looked at the devastation and said, "Watch what I can do with this."
The Odd Flower Out
I was out in the garden the other day, hanging up some laundry and enjoying the sun's warmth on my face, when I noticed something unusual. A single daisy-like flower bloomed tall and steady in the middle of one of my backyard bushes. I had seen it before—last year, in fact—and it had struck me as odd then, too. It seemed so out of place, protruding from the bush all alone in its uniqueness.
As I stood there, admiring the flower, I couldn't help but feel a sense of kinship with it. Indeed, we've all had moments where we've felt like the proverbial square peg trying to fit into a round hole. We've all experienced that sense of not quite belonging, even among those we consider to be our closest friends and family. It's a feeling of isolation, being different, and standing out like a sore thumb.
Blind Faith: Trusting God’s Process and Timing
There are many wonderful miracles recorded in the Bible, but this one—in my mind—stands out among the others. It’s. . .well, different. When the woman with the issue of blood touched the hem of Jesus’ garment, she was immediately healed. When others sought healing, Jesus spoke, and without delay, they were healed. On other occasions, a gentle touch of the Master was all it took to drive away the illness or the demons. But on this occasion, it seems as if Jesus’ first attempt at healing was unsuccessful. Notice, I said it seems that way, but I don’t believe that at all.
Jesus is perfect in all His ways. There isn’t anything He can’t do. So, why is it—do you think—that his first touch didn’t completely heal this blind man?