Lutheran Women of Australia
“What was the last thing you heard God ask you to do … and did you do it?”
I felt the Father press this question into my spirit a few weeks ago – I’d been praying for the courage to have bolder conversations. The answer to my prayer was this awkward “ice-breaker”. No witty segue or magically electrified conversation but a call to step up and risk discomfort. I’ve learned over the years that God’s not the wand-waving, bippity-boppity-boo type of way-maker. He’s a teacher and a father. He knows that a challenge brings growth to his children. And often his challenge to me is simple obedience.
Journal Entry 12 April 2019
I’m not obedient. I really am not even sure what it means, but oh I do want to love you Lord. So, what do you ask of me, Jesus? I won’t give you the bare minimum anymore. Neither will I strive to earn from you what’s freely given. Empty me Jesus. I won’t attempt to empty myself anymore – giving only what’s in my ‘donations’ pile. You have complete access to me and you are “reckless” with it. You mess up my piles. You take from my store for the winter, leaving me anxious and insecure. And yet, when the winter does come, somehow, I have everything I need, and still more to give away.
You, God, are extravagant with your love. You are copiously and radically generous; you lavish me in good gifts; you are faithful and kind. You are not a God of lack, but maybe you will leave me without, in the wanting, in the waiting, for a season – only and ever for my growth and for your kingdom’s cause. I trust your foresight. I trust your process. And if my great need is never met, I still lean in and trust because you are still good. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up Daniel 3:17,18. (For my reference, help me Jesus).
So, teach me Lord about the obedience you ask for. Teach me to let go of everything and surrender to you. You are setting the agenda. Be patient with me, sweet Jesus – pry open my white-knuckled fists and teach me to let you lead. Show me a sweet brand of surrender that doesn’t need to be figured and plotted out. Cement in me the assurance that you will provide, even when my piles are messy, and my winter store is depleted. You feed five thousand. You turn water to wine. You are the way-maker. Teach me to give you my weak but sure “yes, Teacher” today.