If you’ve been following this blog for any length of time,
you know by now that the place I call my sanctuary of peace and intimacy with
the Spirit of God, is my office at the Church where I serve as the Men’s
pastor. My office sits just atop a
long flight of stairs, and to the right of the landing. I like it up here, because the window in my
office overlooks the bottled up waters of
Crooked Creek, which the locals
affectionately call Lake Harrison.
My daily routine, is to come in sometime around 5 or 5:30 in
the morning, turn on the computer, open the window, and make coffee. Once the coffee is brewing, I will sit down
and read our daily bible reading, and pray.
This morning, something happened to cause me to stop and
question what I believe. Don’t get me
wrong, it wasn’t monumental, tragic, or even noteworthy except for the fact
that it caused me to pause for a moment, and question what I believe.
The morning started off like any other, I was awakened by
the alarm on my cell phone, went in and turned on the water to brush my teeth.
Later, after I finished dressing, and the coffee pot I’d programmed the night
before had dutifully produced my anticipated 1st cup of coffee, I
sat down a while to watch my lovely bride of over thirty-six years nap before
facing her upcoming day. After she left
for work, I went out to my truck, put the key in the ignition and turned the
key. The truck started, I put it in
gear and drove to the church. Without
even thinking about it, I turned the key to the side door, and found myself
walking down the familiar hallway and up the stairs in the half-light from the
streetlight outside. I flipped the
switch inside my door, and the light came on as usual. I turned on the computer, made another pot
of coffee, and sat down to read our daily reading.
Something had changed.
The computer hadn’t come on.
DARN!
We do so many things based on faith.
My belief system was shaken. You turn a key, flip a switch, press a button, program a timer,
turn a wheel, and something happens.
This is the way of our modern world.
Without question, signals pour out of little thin wires, and we can know
what is happening across the world. I
don’t claim to know the intricacies of electricity, but I do know the switch
isn’t where the power comes from. At
the same time, if it doesn’t work the first time I flip the switch, I will
usually bump it up and down at least three or four times, until I become
convinced that something other than the switch is broken. You see, I base my daily routine upon a
myriad of things that I can’t see, but ultimately affect my life. I still stand in awe of the cell phone, the
internet, broadcast TV, water lines, and other modern conveniences that await
my beck and call. They work without
question, and often without my knowing their source. I have a plastic card that allows me to draw unseen money from an
electronic depository that is supposed
to be the money in my bank account.
I’ve never seen all of my money in the bank, but a piece of paper every
month says I have it. When people pay
me for fixing things in their home, they pay me with a piece of paper that is
supposed to be the same as cash. All of
this requires faith. When it doesn’t
work, there is usually a good reason.
That reason is usually outside of our control.
It was at that moment when my computer didn’t come on, that
I stopped to believe. Since I was ten
years old, I’ve known there is a God.
There is electricity, there is God.
There is water, there is God.
There is air, there is God. As
long as I can remember, I’ve known there is a God. If I ever doubted for one moment, my mother would remind me,
there is a God. He became the fabric of
my life, without my even knowing how he became the fabric of my life. Even when
I’ve done all the right spiritual
things, made all the right spiritual moves, and not seen the spiritual results
I wanted, I’ve always known there was a God.
It’s in my being.
Then this morning happened.
I frantically jabbed at the button to the computer, looked
up at the light (which was on, but for some reason I looked anyway,) and then
looked down at the surge protector beside my desk.
The switch was off.
In closing my window yesterday, I’d accidentally turned it
off
I reached down and jabbed at the green switch, and
obediently the computer sprang to life.
I found myself laughing at the irritation I’d felt earlier. My initial reaction was that I’d blown
another computer due to a power surge or excessive heat. As I heard the fan motors whir, and the
lights flash green, I stopped to believe once more in the mystery that is
electricity.
I do so much out of simple routine, and am rarely concerned
about whether it works or not. I never
question whether the power will be there.
I never doubt that water will spill from my tap, and I very rarely doubt
the hundreds of other things I rely on every day. I often do the same thing with my relationship to the creator of
the universe. Most of the time, He goes
unheeded, moving quietly in the background of my life, with little thought or
appreciation on my part until something doesn’t work in my life. It’s when everything is good and right, that
I tend to forget he is there. His Spirit flows unseen through the walls and
floors of my life only to exit at whatever ornate faucet I choose to let him
spring from. Even then, the water tap
is usually opened only when I need something for myself. More often than not, his power in my life
serves me only. When I do move beyond
my own comfort zone, and make an attempt at being selfless, his power seems to
do far more for others than he does for me.
This alone causes me stand in awe of Him.
Yet, most of the time I’m oblivious of Him until I ask him
for something I want, and don’t get it right away. Even then, I’ve
discovered it’s because I’ve done
something to turn off the surge protector in my Spiritual walk, that prevents
me from getting what I ask for. Today,
I willfully made a commitment to believe in him as much or more than I do the
electric company, the water department, or any of the other far less faithful
services in my life.
Today, I stopped to believe.
Sparrows must believe.
No comments:
Post a Comment