At first I snickered at the thought of such audaciousness. What kind of person would presume to tell God what to do? Then I sobered as I realized the truth in my own life.
There it was,
In stark black and white,
Concisely put,
Directed to my heart.
“If God is willing to move your mountain, don’t tell him where to put it.”
How like me to pray and implore and plead,
To ask for guidance or direction,
Yet put parameters on the request.
I need this Lord—And I need it to look like that—And I want it to be neat, and clean, and easy, and quick, and painless, and…
In the darkening room, he sat—alone and distressed,
Eyes closed and lips moving silently,
As words of prayer poured from the parched lips of John the Beloved.
Did he despair and wonder if he could take any more?
Did he ask for deliverance daily as persecution engulfed him?
Would he even have asked if he had known his lonely future?
Each week, each month, each year, another dear soul was murdered,
His friends, his companions, his comrades in the Cause for Christ.
Yet he was spared.
Now in his seventies, he was alone.
They were all dead. Every last apostle, his fishing friends from childhood–one by one slaughtered for standing firm in the faith.
As his skin wrinkled and his back bent,
As his gait changed from the sure stride of a young man to the shuffle of the aged,
Did he ask why me Lord?
Why am I the only one left?
Why was I not killed like the rest?
Am I not good enough?
Am I not worthy of notice?
Am I lacking in some way?
As unanswered questions piled up, at what point did he given up trying to figure out his future? Did he finally relinquish all control of where the mountain needed to go?
At last, can you imagine the joy he felt when, parchment before him, the words began to flow and Revelation began to pour from the heavens.
And suddenly he knew his purpose.
The reason the mountain had been moved, the reason he had been left behind.
The peace and serenity that had perhaps eluded him were now soldified as he smiled and nodded and murmured, “I understand now Lord.”
Did He whisper, “Forgive me my doubt, thank you for saving me for last and allowing me to be the vessel for your words.”
Don’t put God in a box.
We can’t fathom his plans.
We can’t see the elaborate blueprint
Or the densely woven silk strands of our life—carefully created in a pattern—individual and lovely in his eyes.
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Jeremiah 29:11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.
-Remember whatever the enemy throws at you—God can handle.
-Trust him to move your mountain as he sees fit, not as you think it should be done.