Typos & Terrain

When my friend texted, instead of "trial", she accidentally typed "trail". 

As I ponder it, I gratefully sense an invitation from the Lord to shift my perspective and view a “trial” as a rough and rutted “trail” toward more of His [good and wise] plan for me. 

Instead of feeling stuck in this stationary [momentary] hardship, this renewed outlook postures me for progress and patience and [eternal] peace. 

Yet those who wait for the Lord

Will gain new strength;

They will mount up with wings like eagles,

They will run and not get tired,

They will walk and not become weary. 

Isaiah 40:31

Lord, we praise You for Your wisdom and kindness. Thank you for promising never to leave us. 

Help us as we walk with You up these paths You're working to make straight. Equip us to offer truth and grace to those who walk beside us. 

Together, we pray for faith enough to surrender, and patience enough to keep in step and see Your Kingdom come.

Steps

Step 4: "We made a searching and fearless inventory of ourselves."

As I take note of past hurts, harmful habits, and selfish hang-ups, I just keep digging up dirt. To surrender my life to the Lord for long-term, deep cleaning, I must continue to look for things about which to be brutally honest.

I feel like I'm constantly dealing with nasty mop water.

I get a section of my life processed ... like mopping half a room. But then the water is disgusting. Grateful to be rid of the funk, I empty it out to choose new, fresh water.

In the progress, I force myself to see the good along with the bad. I choose to believe the truth of forgiveness and mercy instead of the enemy's lies about shame and condemnation. I choose to live according to God's promises, and to commit each day to clean and holy living. Mop it up. Rinse it out. Dump it out. Fill it up.

I remember my grandmother could mop her floors and the water wasn't even dirty. Seriously. But let me tell you a few fun facts about her home ...

No one ever wore shoes in her house. Ever. Food was consumed at the kitchen bar or the dining table, washable rugs covered 70% of her floor space, and I think she mopped every day. Ha!

So, no dirt in, a limit set on potential spills, measures of safeguard against wear and tear, and daily attention.

No wonder her mop water was clear! How can I apply this principle to my life as I celebrate recovery? 

Dirty influences and muddy temptations are checked at the door. No garbage in. Less garbage out.

Set standard operating procedures that minimize a moral mess ... like screens staying in the family room, plentiful healthful snacks in the pantry, and keeping a gratitude journal.

Have trusted accountability in place so that when life becomes a wreck, partners can bear some of the burden, help keep things in perspective and preserve what's really important.

Daily attentiveness is key.

"Let us examine our ways and test them, and let us return to the Lord." -Lamentations 3:40

Thank You, God, for tools that bring discipline. Thank You for mercifully dumping my dirty water "into the sea of forgetfulness" again and again; and for faithfully refilling my bucket with clean and pure water ... so I can keep mopping. Please redeem my messes into a message of hope.

Entreatment

 

The silent treatment. 

A false reprieve. Passive aggression. The worst kind of tension.

There is so much that needs to be said in the pursuit of peace. And yet with willful determination, everything is muzzled into pressurized coexistence.

No clarifying perspectives, no humble apologies, no gentle rebukes. No resolution.

I despise the awful space at the receiving end. And to be honest, I have often dominated in the dreadful dishing out.

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On the other hand ...

Silence.

A holy pause. Intentional margin to listen and remain calm. Collected.

There is so much that could be said in the name of profuse progress. And yet, with willful determination, everything is muted into an expanse of hallowed hush.

No cluttering preferences, no weighing of options, no confirmation nor denial. Only resolute faith.

I resist this posture of patience. And to be quite honest, I don't practice it enough.

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People who have yet to properly process their own hurt are masters of the silent treatment. Soundly driven, the wedge forces relationships further apart and deeper into despair. 

People who are mastering the disciplines of being quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry can confidently offer the gift of silence. Quietly we are drawn into more of God's presence where healing and hope abide.

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And all the people aside ... when I think of how easily and how often I treat the powerful stillness of God as if it were some petty silent treatment … I weep.

He is never far and His purposes are pure and kind. He cannot fail.

I will not fear the silence.

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