When I was a young writer, like most of my ilk and age, I was jealous of the gift and stingy with my praise of others, as if what I had received was meant for my glory and needed to be hidden from the eyes of those who might steal it from me, and as if shining light on genius elsewhere might cause speculation that I was wanting any of my own.
I didn't ken the Giver would be the thief, taking back so that I would cherish Him and nothing else.
A repost from surprisedtobeaguest.
Every once in a while a book comes along that forces you to rethink some important stuff. Who can come to Christ; what you’ve done in the way of establishing principles and guarding and protecting your children against evil and falsehoods; how you practice the commands of Christ and how crucial some of the seemingly inconsequential commands are to the fabric and fiber of the life of the church – and more personally, in the lives of believers. You realize you’ve backed strongholds, given no thought at all to whether they are compatible with Scripture or merely reflect adherence to talking points, and a bullet train has come barreling down the tracks, leaving splintered presuppositions in its wake.
What this book has done to me is drive me to make a confession.
#1: Um, sir? Is there something I can help you with?
#2: Yes! I was given directions to this address to meet a man named Mr. Warty-nose. They said he could help me with … a problem.
#1: Ahh, yes. Mr. Warty-nose. He was just here a minute ago, but I think he went out for lunch with his pet monkey. Mrs. Warty-nose is here if you would like to speak with her? She is our best back hair stylist.
#2: Um, I could wait for Mr. Warty-nose? Can you tell me if he mentioned anything about a large package from the island of Bola-Bola?
In improv theater, that exchange is an example of the Yes Factor. And thinking about the Yes Factor always stirs thoughts about Christian contentment and biblical servanthood, which may seem like an unusual segué, but in both of these contexts, it all comes down to one little word: “Yes.”
Enlightened societies pride themselves on their compassion, and no one cares like the ideal of mankind, the progressive of the early 21st century -- which assuredly represents humanity at its pinnacle. Every perceived oppression must be granted validation, every twinge of discomfort must be assuaged, even legislated against. With immense virtue, divinity, and wisdom, the special classes condescend to buffet the harsh realities of the world and eliminate any hint of unhappiness, so that the benefactors, the swaddled masses, will continue to suckle mush and reject the meat of life's challenges.
What this is, of course, is a denial of God's sovereignty as the first cause of all events -- including our sorrows and joys -- and of His role as Author of Love and Mercy. Our efforts to one-up God come up short because our ways are not anything like His. We cannot possibly comprehend sorrow the way the Father of the Man of Sorrows does.
I haven't been able to take my eyes off of her lately. Each week, she arrives alone and is content with sitting alone. She dresses modestly; she's quiet and pleasing to observe and to engage in conversation. But when she turns her attention to me -- it doesn't matter if the topic is the parking ticket she got when she rescued her car from a tow truck that week or the wonder she has about what exactly the writer of Hebrews means in chapter 6 -- in every encounter, in every topic, there is joy, devotion, excitement, gratitude. She has found Life Eternal, and you can see it on her face.
Laura Miller aka mrsdkmiller
Looking for a list of articles published around the web?
Looking for posts written in response to 5-Minute Friday prompts? Click here:
Her March Isn't Over
Across the River
When God Pries My Fingers Off My Children
Life's Defining Moments
To the Christian Wife Who Berated Her Husband in Front of My Daughter
Zeal and Grace in France
An Unconventional Love Story
Seeing What's in Front of Our Eyes
Remembering Why I Called You Hannah
Love Your Sister.
Because He Came Home
Go Valiantly! A Prayer for New Homeschooling Moms
© lauraenglandmiller, #thereyougothinkingagain, Laura E Miller
2015-2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of written material and images without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to #thereyougothinkingagain, lauraenglandmiller, or Laura E Miller with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.