He isn't Turning My Water Into Wine
"God what do you want?"
Its me. Shouting out to God. Twelve years old begging God to show me what He wants from my life.
"God show me and I'll do it. Anything you want God, give me direction."
There's silence. He isn't giving me a "sign", He isn't showing me anything, He isn't speaking to me like I read about Him speaking in the Old Testament, He isn't turning my water into wine--is He doing anything?
I slump down on the window sill of my bedroom window where I'd spent the last 30 minutes pleading with God to show me what He wants from my life. Its night time. The stars are beautiful and through the blur of my tears I whisper, "You made those, but you can't give me any clue of what you want me to do." Frustrated, I give up and go to bed.
Years pass, and my heart is still crying the same thing.
"God what is it. What do you have for me? What should I do?"
Still, my water is just water, no wine. I'm frustrated with God. Why can't you speak to me like other Christians say you speak? Why can't you work things out and make all the pieces fit together? Why can't my life be like hers?
And then one day I was just done. I went outside, marched across the front lawn, through the field, and into the woods of our 50 acres in the country. I found a grassy spot on the bank of the river that runs through the trees and brush, and plopped down.
"God... I don't want to beg anymore. I don't want to sit by my window sill, tensing my muscles and silently waiting to hear your voice. I don't want to use all my time with you begging for you to show me a 'sign', begging you to show me the plan. I just want you. I just want to know you...the real you."
Be Still.
Time carries on. The robins play in the grass, the ants inconspicuously carry on with their building, the dark water runs over green algae rocks, the wind pushes the golden shafts of brush in circles. The air smells clean and cool to my nose, the chickadee sings. Its all so relaxed. This is God's Mona Lisa, and I'm there in the middle of it. He's written it into the ants to build their hills, He's chosen the burnt orange color of every robins breast, He's taught the water where to flow. He's brought the algae into bloom, and He's created the gem of His creation with a heart woven in the pattern of His own. A pattern that follows the Master Plan. A plan of love and redemption, forgiveness, building up. And silently, He says go. Follow the plan I have written on your heart. Put down everything your holding, everything that's not from me. Follow me, and you will turn water into wine.
Its me. Shouting out to God. Twelve years old begging God to show me what He wants from my life.
"God show me and I'll do it. Anything you want God, give me direction."
There's silence. He isn't giving me a "sign", He isn't showing me anything, He isn't speaking to me like I read about Him speaking in the Old Testament, He isn't turning my water into wine--is He doing anything?
I slump down on the window sill of my bedroom window where I'd spent the last 30 minutes pleading with God to show me what He wants from my life. Its night time. The stars are beautiful and through the blur of my tears I whisper, "You made those, but you can't give me any clue of what you want me to do." Frustrated, I give up and go to bed.
Years pass, and my heart is still crying the same thing.
"God what is it. What do you have for me? What should I do?"
Still, my water is just water, no wine. I'm frustrated with God. Why can't you speak to me like other Christians say you speak? Why can't you work things out and make all the pieces fit together? Why can't my life be like hers?
And then one day I was just done. I went outside, marched across the front lawn, through the field, and into the woods of our 50 acres in the country. I found a grassy spot on the bank of the river that runs through the trees and brush, and plopped down.
"God... I don't want to beg anymore. I don't want to sit by my window sill, tensing my muscles and silently waiting to hear your voice. I don't want to use all my time with you begging for you to show me a 'sign', begging you to show me the plan. I just want you. I just want to know you...the real you."
Be Still.
Time carries on. The robins play in the grass, the ants inconspicuously carry on with their building, the dark water runs over green algae rocks, the wind pushes the golden shafts of brush in circles. The air smells clean and cool to my nose, the chickadee sings. Its all so relaxed. This is God's Mona Lisa, and I'm there in the middle of it. He's written it into the ants to build their hills, He's chosen the burnt orange color of every robins breast, He's taught the water where to flow. He's brought the algae into bloom, and He's created the gem of His creation with a heart woven in the pattern of His own. A pattern that follows the Master Plan. A plan of love and redemption, forgiveness, building up. And silently, He says go. Follow the plan I have written on your heart. Put down everything your holding, everything that's not from me. Follow me, and you will turn water into wine.
God has never really spoken to me either, and sometimes I wonder if the struggles I go through are in His plan for me. But there are times where I witness what seems like a miracle happening for me or for someone else (the Thai boys rescued from the cave come to mind), and I say to myself or out loud "God was definitely at work today". So at least for me, he might not always seem present, but I know he's there watching over me and guiding me through His perfectly laid out plan.
ReplyDeleteNice job on the blog post again. Keep writing!