…and I have taken refuge once again at the Port City Cafe. Sipping some quality Kona coffee and eagerly awaiting my chili’s arrival. And pondering the future of me. Among the many qualities I seem to lack in measurable quanities is contentment. By this I mean true “apostle Paul” kind of contentment (Phil 4.11). I am tempted both to strive and to worry, to push ahead despite the consequences, or to run away with my tail betwixt my legs. “How will tomorow go?” or “What on earth am I going to do when I grow up? (or will I ever grow up?)” The simple faith in the idea that God is glorifying Himself through me and what he leads me through is elusive at best. I know that the Lord is sovereign and just and loving and worthy of not only my praise but my unwavering trust; but I, fool that I can be, desire control despite knowing full well I could never really handle it. If I mess up the first two or three pancakes every time, how can I expect to handle truly directing a life. Especially a sinner like me hanging as by a thread to God’s amazing grace despite my worst intentions. It should be enough to rest in Him, but sometimes I chafe in His embrace. I get distracted, enticed and try to go my own way. Then I, like a frightened child in the endless aisles of some mega-mart, feel absolutely alone then look around, frantic, only to realize that my Father is standing right behind me with a knowing grin. Pointing the way to go.
Another rainy Monday evening…
