Line of dominoes

A few weeks ago, I heard an unmistakable chirping sound as I walked through the basement to the laundry room. We had recently changed the batteries in the various smoke alarms, but we had overlooked the carbon monoxide detector mounted high on the wall. As I climbed a chair to take it down, from my high vantagepoint I noticed that the thermostat situated just below and to the right of the carbon monoxide detector was blank. Nothing was on or running. The HVAC unit for the basement doesn’t see a lot of action since the cave-lake rooms down there mostly remain at a consistently pleasant temperature, so who knows how long it had been out. I called an air conditioning repairman, and he alerted me to the fact that the drain pan which the unit sits in was full of water, resulting in the unit cutting out. Otherwise, it was operating perfectly fine. He also showed me where a slow but steady drip was winding its way from somewhere upstairs, hopping from one wire or cable or pipe to another, then eventually landing in that drain pan. Later that evening, my husband and I took turns being the upstairs-listener or the downstairs-tapper (the basement person poking a broom handle on the spot where we thought the leak originated), until we located the leaky culprit—the water line to the refrigerator. Next to enter, a plumber who had to cut a bit of the drywall behind the refrigerator to get to the spot in need of repair. With his task accomplished, our last domino fell in this particular home repair saga.

 

The whole sequence of events—innocent chirping to blank screen to full drain pan to refrigerator leak—presented a few what-ifs. What if I were taller and didn’t require a chair to get the detector down, making me less likely to notice the thermostat? What if the drips hadn’t chosen that particular path (into the drain pan), but instead dripped behind a wall where it would go unseen, eventually causing real damage?

 

The experience was a reminder to me that things are happening behind the scenes everyday which I am absolutely oblivious to but still affected by. For instance, how many times have I been on my way out of the house and then I’m forced to run back inside for some forgotten item making me a fraction later, but also making me miss being involved in an accident? There’s just no way to know.

 

You can approach this reality two different ways: You can see life as a wild ride, unchecked and uncontrolled by anyone. Everything is just coincidence and good or bad luck. Or you can breathe a sigh of relief and know that my life and the lives of every single soul I encounter are tethered to a plan. There is Someone in control, and (Thank goodness!) it isn’t me. For many people, their favorite scripture is Romans 8:28, and for good reason. During those times when things seem to be spinning out of control, it’s encouraging to read: “And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.”

Deadheading

I enjoy being outside in the summer, especially in the morning before the sun sends down the full force of its intensity. One of my favorite tasks is watering the potted plants on our front porch.

 

I like a variety of colors and textures in these pots—stalks of purple salvia, fuchsia trumpets of million bells, and petit bouquets of pink and yellow lantana. But one of the easiest flowers to care for and find at the store is petunias. They’re so simple and cheerful. And they come with an added bonus for people who like fussing with things, like peeling off labels and picking at stickers. I get to deadhead the petunia blooms nearly every day.

 

It’s amazing what a difference it makes to pinch away these shriveled, brown blooms! In the space of just a few days, my petunias can go from looking like they’re ready for the compost pile to full and lush and beautiful. Even the most unassuming plants are more complex than they may seem. Little Petunia is constantly trying to keep itself alive by passing water and nutrients throughout its maze of roots and stems. When I take away those dead blooms, Petunia can concentrate on its healthier parts. It can conserve energy. It can send out new blooms.

I see a similar reward when I deadhead bitterness from my life. I can wake up early, before the heat of another busy day has worn me out, and choose to do what Ephesians 4 instructs: “Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” This may look like cutting back on social media or being open to the Spirit’s nudges to serve in a particular way or limiting my exposure to people who radiate bitterness like the sun on a hot afternoon in July.

 

Then I can put my energy into doing some more of what I read in Ephesians: “…put off your old self…put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.” I can receive the reward of fresh, new blooms. Oh boy! I can feel the contented sigh rising up through me already! Why does it too often take so long to cast off that yucky burden and exchange it for something so much better?

 

When I’m done deadheading my petunias, I look down at the handful of sticky, brown flowers. I wad them up into a smooshed ball and throw them out into the yard. They’re gone, on their way to transforming into the dirt where my grass is growing. There’s no reason to hold on to them, not with better than bitter alternatives waiting for me. See ya later, old self!

What’s real?

As we watched a complicated battle scene in the new Mulan movie a few nights ago, my youngest son said, “It would be hard to be an actor.”

 

Assuming he was referring to the acrobatics required to do things like flip around on the back of horses while shooting arrows at a pursuing enemy, I replied, “It would. They must’ve practiced this scene a bunch of times.”

 

He paused a minute then said, “Yeah…and also why would you sign up for a movie if you’re just going to get killed?”

 

“Who got killed?” I asked.

 

“Well, that guy and that guy.” He pointed at the screen. “And that guy with the arrow in his chest. They’re all dead now. I wouldn’t want to be an actor.”

 

“They aren’t really dead!” I told him. “They’re just pretending.”

 

“Are you sure? They look dead.”

 

“I’m absolutely sure. No one was killed making this movie.” I thought for a minute, then added, “And it’s the same in other movies, too. They are always just pretending to die, and then they put fake blood on them.”

 

“Ohhhh…” At least outwardly satisfied by my answer, he finished watching the movie, hopefully with a new perspective about the craft of moviemaking and the exciting career of stunt professionals.

 

Reflecting on his film-related epiphany, I wondered if he’d been thinking this all along, that actors in the movies had been actually dying, like the man in the Darth Vader mask had really perished in Luke Skywalker’s arms. I also understood why he chafed at my frequent comments about how he should be an actor because he’s so funny and expressive and, let’s face it, very dramatic. While I thought I was paying him a compliment, he may have assumed I wanted him to kick the bucket on the silver screen.

 

Perspective is such an essential tool in understanding the motivations of another human being. The well-known phrase goes something like this, “To understand another person, you must walk a mile in his shoes.” I like Atticus Finch’s counsel to his daughter Scout even better in Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird. “If you can learn a simple trick, Scout, you’ll get along a lot better with all kinds of folks. You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view, until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.”

 

Atticus’ advice is more of a submission to empathy than just tying on a pair of shoes and going for a walk. It’s a desire to absorb every nuance of their viewpoint and outlook. How do they see the world and how does the world see them? But it’s possible to take this to the next step. Because even after trying our best to be empathetic, we may have to admit that the other person’s opinion just doesn’t make sense, and then what? Just agree to disagree? I’m sometimes challenged to figure out how to live on the same planet with some people so ideologically different than me, let alone the same country or even the same street. The only way to move forward is with a heaping helping of grace. In spite of how I feel about them and what evidence I have about the truth, that undeserved and magical gift is as much for me as it is for them.

 

I’m glad my son and I had our conversation about movies, because it gave me just one more glimpse into the mind of one of my favorite people. It’s a bit disconcerting to realize that he has been thinking that all of these actors have been dying voluntarily, and, even worse, that we’re all okay with it. But now that it’s out there, I can put it right. We can discuss it and the truth is revealed.  Then I can show him what’s real.

Unplugged

Our home has had more work done on it than an aging movie star. Roof, siding, bathroom renovations, kitchen renovation, basement renovation, carpet, carpet again (after the flood of 2010), the addition of a sunroom, and gallons and gallons of paint. It’s gone through a lot of changes, so it isn’t unusual for us find something down in the basement or up in the attic or even out in the yard that just doesn’t make sense.

 

A few summers ago, we had to have a portion of our front yard dug up to repair the gas line. One might hope to find a treasure buried beneath all that dirt, but we weren’t so lucky. We mostly found rocks. One puzzling thing we did find was a random black cable. The length was indeterminable, and the cut end was just sticking out of the dirt like a curious garter snake. Though we’ve been assured that it isn’t connected to a power source and no electrical current is pulsing through it, we have left it there. Each time I walk past it, I am reminded of what it is to be rendered inept, defective, powerless.

 

I’ve felt the same as that cable many times, hopeless and broken down, unable to make a difference or exchange bad for good, disconnected from power. But I’m told in the Scriptures that I’m not so powerless as I sometimes feel. I’ve just forgotten where the Power is coming from.

 

In Ephesians 3, Paul says: “…I fall to my knees and pray to the Father, the Creator of everything in heaven and on earth. I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God.” (NLT)

 

Tapping into the power of God’s spirit gives me strength, peace and confidence, but more than that, it allows me to be an adapter. Wired for the highest voltage and fitted with the ground wire of Christ-like humility, I am equipped to help pass that spirit along to others.

 

After Jesus’s death, resurrection and ascension into heaven, his disciples got busy spreading the Good News. There were times when their message was met with acceptance and joy, and other times when they were run out of town. Once, Peter and John were brought before the Sanhedrin, the ruling Jewish council. They had healed a lame beggar and a crowd had formed, anxious for answers and more miracles. The Jewish leaders didn’t like where this was heading, so they wanted to shut them up. Acts 4 tells us that Peter and John were filled with the power of the Spirit as they boldly refused to stop speaking about Jesus. The Jewish leaders eventually gave in and released them.

 

Peter and John hurried to meet with the other disciples to share what had happened. They prayed together, asking God for courage and even more miracles and healings. Next, the place where they were meeting shook, vibrating with the presence of God’s Spirit. But this isn’t where it ends. If this were a Marvel movie, we might expect that those who were electrified would become selfish and power-hungry. Instead, we read that they were compelled to testify to the story of Jesus and give away all that they had so that no one was needy.

 

When I feel helpless, I can still help others. When I feel powerless, I can still plug into the power of God’s Spirit. And when I feel defeated, there is still something I can control. I can choose to submit to the will of the One who ultimately holds all the power.

Disagree to Disagree

I don’t get to read as much purely entertaining fiction as I’d like. They’re like dessert for me, so I don’t ingest them as much as the vegetables I end up reading and studying instead. But with our recent Fall Break trip to the mountains, I decided to treat myself by reading one of my favorite authors.

 

I read a book about a group of people taken hostage by a bank robber. (FYI: This was not a Grisham-like thriller. It was a charming and funny, character-driven story set in Sweden.) The basic idea was that these eight people with dissimilar personalities and established prejudices and heavy emotional baggage are thrown together in a traumatic situation, and they come out on the other side not as strangers, but as something more like family. They experience a potentially life-or-death situation, resulting in a new understanding of those people who lived in a different “universe” (though they all physically live in Sweden) than them.

 

I have been stewing over this story since I finished reading it a week ago. I keep thinking about if it’s really possible for a person’s entrenched perspective to change. Can years of hurt and misinformation actually move aside for a new view to form? What do we do with people we disagree with? Especially when it’s something we think is important and central to our entire moral code?

 

Dr. Christena Cleveland thoughtfully lays out the issues with division in her book Disunity in Christ where she devotes a lot of time discussing perspective divergence or what she calls the gold standard effect. “Basically, the gold standard effect leads us to believe that not only are we different from them, but we are also better than them…When we adopt a unique group identity and surround ourselves with similar ingroup members, we essentially create our own alternate universe in which we believe that the standards, ideals, and goals of our ingroup should become the new ‘normal’.” She explains that most of us like to live in homogenous worlds where all the people think and act and vote the same as us. And when our Gold Standard view is challenged, there is often hostility. (And when it’s challenged on social media…watch out! Sparks will fly!)

 

We’re living in period of heightened division, and as much as I’d like to think it will all clear up after November 3, I feel like these hurt feelings and angry comments will still be hanging over lots of relationships like a dark raincloud. Someone much smarter than me should suggest how to repair these divisions across our country, but in the meantime, I have a plea for those of us who are a part of the body of Christ.

 

Just like those fictional characters in the Swedish novel I read who survived a life-or-death situation and came out different people—realizing they were more alike than different—those of us who claim to be made new by the One who lived and died for us should be willing to love each other without hurting each other so frequently. Strangers, acquaintances, coworkers, friends and even those who worship at the same church are tearing into each other on social media because they don’t agree.

 

Here’s my advice, the next time you begin to type a comment which tears down the person who posted it have a conversation with yourself. Maybe it can go a little something like this: “Wait…Is this comment I’ve formed in my mind using my own Gold Standard going to punch this brother/sister in the gut? Is it a personal attack? Is there some motivation behind this person’s post which I’m unable to see? I was in a life-or-death hostage situation with this person and by the blood of Christ and God’s overwhelming mercy, we both barely made it out to the other side. If what I’m planning to say is really that important to me, I’ll call this brother/sister up and talk about it privately. Otherwise, I’ll move on. I realize that’s a lot more work than a hastily written 10-word comment displayed for all to see my brilliant assessment of recent political events, but I am not lazy. Looking to Christ’s example, I am a servant.”

Sabbath rest

By the time Moses marched the Israelites out of Egypt, they had gone through a lot: Mass murder of their baby sons and harsh treatment as slaves. The frightening experience of watching (from a safe distance) as God sent plague after deadly plague, culminating in a final act of punishment which required blood smeared across door frames to ensure survival. The sea was parted and they walked across dry land while the pursuing Egyptians met their watery fate.

 

Then the Israelites found themselves in the wilderness. Missing the comforts of their old home (though minimal), their stomachs rumbled and they grumbled, “You have brought us out here in the desert to die!” So God sent manna, honey-flavored flakes from the sky which settled on the ground like dew. They were told to take as much as they needed, about 3 lbs. for each person in their family, then bake it or boil it according to their own particular taste. Moses told them not to keep any of it until morning or it would spoil. The Lord was teaching them to rely on Him.

 

On the sixth day of the week, they were told to gather twice as much. The Lord saw their stress level and their arrogance, so He told them, “Tomorrow is going to be a day of sabbath rest. So prepare the manna however you choose and save whatever is left to eat tomorrow.” Sure enough, this time the manna didn’t spoil or become infested with maggots. But some hard-headed people still went out to gather manna on the sabbath morning. The Lord saw their surprised and frustrated and worried faces, so He said to Moses, “When are they going to start obeying me?! I’m giving them rest! It’s what they need! Everyone is to stay put on the seventh day.” And that was that—the Israelites kept the Sabbath.

 

I told my young son this story on Sunday—the grumbling, the manna, the worrying, and the gift of the Sabbath. An hour later, my sister sent me a beautiful poem written earlier this month by poet Lynn Ungar about our present misfortune. It reminds me why we should keep the sabbath today.

 

Pandemic

What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.

And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.

Promise this world your love–
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.

–Lynn Ungar 3/11/20

Tunneling back

Since November 9, 2019 marks the 30thanniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, this moment in history has reappeared for a little while in the news. I was a teenager when it came down, but I realize now that I knew very little about this wall. I knew it was symbolic of the horrors of Communist Soviet Union and that President Ronald Reagan famously said, “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall,” in a speech he made outside the Brandenburg Gate and a boy who liked my older sister gave her a chunk of stone that was supposed to be from the actual wall to somehow get her to go out with him. (It didn’t work.)

 

I didn’t know that the wall went up in 1961. I assumed it was constructed just after the end of World War 2, when Germany was divided by the conquering nations—Soviets getting the eastern half and America, Britain and France ruling the western half. But the wall was a result of a slow simmering pot of dissatisfaction with the lack of freedom in the east and a controlling dictatorship. The Soviets didn’t like that so many people were leaving their side. Once the wall went up, that pot of unhappiness and misery had to build in intensity until the people could no longer abide the cruelty it enforced.

 

I have been listening to an interesting BBC Radio podcast called “Tunnel 29” about a group of people who worked to help others escape from East Germany into West Germany. There are heartbreaking stories about families and friends being separated first by barbed wire, then thick concrete walls, trenches and land mines. The wall was heavily guarded and the East German Police employed spies to find those who might want to defect. The people were desperate to get out.

 

The podcast focuses on one German man in particular named Joachim. He escaped from East Germany and was soon approached by a team of people wanting to dig tunnels under the wall. Joachim was an engineering student, so devising methods for removing dirt and pumping in fresh air and constructing scaffolding was his expertise.

 

Without revealing the many plot twists and perilous moments in Joachim’s story, one of the most astonishing realizations I made while listening to the podcast is the group’s dedication to the rescue mission. When Joachim escaped, he took risks, but this was to save himself. He was willing to do whatever it took to get out of East Germany or die trying. The tunnel diggers jeopardized their own freedom and possibly their lives, but from the position of safety. They were in West Germany. They were safe. Many of the other diggers were also escapees. They knew what was waiting for them on the east side of the concrete wall, and yet they started digging…digging toward danger.

 

This mentality may explain why so many social workers were once foster kids. And some medical professionals spent a lot of their childhoods in pediatric hospitals. And sometimes police officers grew up in homes where abuse was common. And the best caretakers to dying loved ones are cancer survivors. So often and contrary to human logic, the people who escape danger are the ones who are more likely to turn around and start digging in the direction of those who need rescuing.

Bad Luck

The past couple of weeks have been pretty hectic around the Rosser house, and most of that bad luck has been aimed at me. Sickness and doctor’s appointments, broken clothes dryer and backed up sewer line. (FYI: I’ve realized that a working sewage system is one of the things I most take for granted.) It’s been weeks of mopping and wet/dry vacuuming and remembering to take my antibiotics. To add to my misery, the check enginelight just came on and my van is shaking like nobody’s business, so now I’m without my handy-dandy minivan until they can fix the problem.

 

I’m a glass half-full kind of girl, so I can spin a lot of things toward the “it could’ve been worst” zone. What if the sewer line had backed up while we were gone for Fall Break? That would’ve been a disaster! What if the check enginelight came on while I was with my daughter looking at a college out of town? We would’ve been stranded in the middle of Arkansas! And of course, I can always tell myself, “Stop whining! Even with a basement covered in sewer water, you’re still a million times more fortunate than most of this planet. If you have a clean mattress to sleep on, know how to read, and eat vegetables every day, you are richly blessed!”

 

Even with that kind of pep talk, this much bad luck this close together might still find a chink in my optimism armor. That was the day I got a tag on the trash can telling me I didn’t put it out before 6:00 am, in time for pick-up, even though I had it out the night before. The reprimand was such a little thing, but it pushed me over the edge. “Are you kidding me?!?” I wanted to yell to someone in charge.

 

When you’re feeling like you’re in the middle of one of those frustrating movies where everything goes wrong for the main character to the point of absurdity, go to the Book of Psalms. They get you there.

 

The world has just recently lost the very insightful Eugene Peterson, pastor and author of The Message. His paraphrase of Psalm 73 makes me think he understood a little about bad luck, just as the original author—Asaph, the leader of King David’s choir—must’ve also experienced some fairly awful days.

 

“What’s going on here? Is God out to lunch?Nobody’s tending the store.The wicked get by with everything;they have it made, piling up riches.I’ve been stupid to play by the rules;what has it gotten me?A long run of bad luck, that’s what—a slap in the face every time I walk out the door…Still, when I tried to figure it out, all I got was a splitting headache, until I entered the sanctuary of God.Then I saw the whole picture…When I was beleaguered and bitter,totally consumed by envy,I was totally ignorant, a dumb oxin your very presence.I’m still in your presence,but you’ve taken my hand.You wisely and tenderly lead me,and then you bless me.” Psalm 73:11-24 (The Message)

 

On those Bad Luck Days, I yearn to see the whole picture, to see how it all fits together and why it’s still important for me to hunger for righteousness. In the meantime, I’ll just hold God’s hand and allow Him to bless me, even if I can’t always discern the blessings from the bad luck.

Sudoku

In a house with 4 kids who go to 3 different schools, weekday mornings can be hectic. Breakfast must be eaten. Backpacks must be packed. Lunches must be made. Pajamas must be traded for school clothes. The majority of my kids are relatively self-sufficient, but I still need to be available to monitor the morning progress if I want everyone out the door and to school on time. So the busyness of the morning makes completing the newspaper puzzles fairly difficult.

 

Since my older sister homeschools her 4 kids, her mornings are a little less hectic (but the rest of the day is pretty busy!). Therefore, she prioritizes her morning time and her newspaper puzzles. She has told me, “I do the top left scramble, then the sudoku, the bottom scramble, the crossword and then the cryptoquote. Brain work!!” She said that the first 4 puzzles are her prep work for the tricky and often perplexing code-breaking exercise of the cryptoquote.

 

If I do get around to completing any puzzles, I usually only do the sudoku puzzles on Mondays and Tuesdays. This is not because those are our less crazy days of the week. It’s actually because I’m aware of my limitations. The difficulty of each sudoku puzzle is noted with a number of stars. Monday is usually a 1-star and Tuesday is a 2-star. I’m just not willing to devote the amount of effort to a puzzle that’s more difficult than that. Call it lazy or call it self-awareness, but it’s true.

 

According to sudokudragon.com, the name sudokuis “abbreviated from the Japanese suuji wa dokushin ni kagiru, which means ‘the numbers must occur only once.’” Because of its name, many might assume the sudoku puzzle is a Japanese invention, but there’s a lot more to its origin story.

 

It started out as the invention of a Swiss mathematician named Leonhard Euler in the late 1700’s. It eventually made its way to French newspapers between 1890-1920. Then the puzzle showed up in an American magazine in 1979. By the 1980’s, Japan started printed the eventually-named Sudoku puzzles in their magazines and newspapers. The Japanese people love a good puzzle as much as anyone but found that the structure of their language and lettering made it difficult to construct a Japanese crossword puzzle. A number puzzle worked much better for them.

 

For those who don’t really care for newspaper puzzles, the history of the sudoku might seem as mind-numbingly boring as actually completing a sudoku puzzle, but there’s an interesting evolution to its existence and popularity. This grid made up of 81 boxes and a few well-placed numbers, has changed over the last 250+ years as it was altered by various cultures. Instead of keeping it just so, when a new group discovered it, they would look to make it better or more challenging or more universally appealing.

 

Though the name Su Dokumeans “number single,” its persistence in so many diverse places shows its multiplicity. It’s an excellent example of the melting pot theory. Learning from and sharing what we love with others can create some pretty amazing things.

Make your paths straight

If anyone is looking for me on most Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights, they can find me in the preschool wing of my church. Our curriculum has a video series which we show the 3 year-olds to kindergarteners to reinforce their classroom lessons. The kids begin in their rooms, then about 15 minutes into Bible class time, they all come out to me on the area we call the “green triangle” (named after the color and shape of the carpeting in front of the television).

 

We sing a few songs, and then I ask someone to switch off the lights. [Side note: Being the Chosen One who turns off the lights is a GIANT deal. I always choose a child I know can handle the task without a) needing assistance from me which would remove me from my post, or b) run out the door to escape. For the last two years I asked my youngest son to complete this task most of the time. Knowing he was about to age out of the preschool and move on to the elementary wing, I had him mentor a few reliable 4 year-olds. It was an interesting take on discipleship and a reminder that people like to be made to feel special.]

 

Once the lights are off and the mood is set, we watch the video which shows a character who is questioning or struggling with a problem. An animated owl named Ollie overhears and offers a related Bible story to help them resolve their issues. Each month, there’s a new theme and Bible verse. Before we watch the video we practice the verse. This month it’s Proverbs 3:5—just the first part. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart.”

 

I love this verse, especially when you look at the complete thought – Proverbs 3:5,6

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.” (NIV)

 

Working on this with the kids helped me I realize that I learned this verse in different versions:

“In all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.” (NIV)

“In all your ways acknowledge Him,And He shalldirect your paths.” (NKJV)

“In all your ways know him, and he will make your paths straight.” (CSB)

“Seek his will in all you do,and he will show you which path to take.” (NLT)

 

I started thinking about the difference between God “showing which path to take” or “directing my paths” and “making my path straight”.  They seem different, don’t they? The most literal translation is “make your paths straight.” The idea is clearing all obstructions and obstacles out of the way.

 

That’s not to say God doesn’t want to tell you with path to take. In Isaiah 30:21, we learn that “Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’” (NIV)

 

But the Scriptures teach us about the versatility of God, and His willingness to wait for us and find us and know us. So sometimes He will whisper to tell us which way to go and sometimes He will remove obstacles in our path. In the end, He just asks us to trust him.

 

When I look back at the ways God has used me and challenged me, I see times when God removed the obstacles to pave the way for me to act. Upon reflection, I’m given the blessing of standing further down a road and looking back to see where I’ve been. Often I can understand a little better why the detours and the roadblocks came just when they did. God was providing me with a path made straight both by His foresight and His desire to bless me.