Desire. Want. Me, Me, Me.
I've decided that I might be the most selfish and discontented person alive. And narcissistic to boot.
"I could do that better....."
"If I just could.....maybe if I did this.....what if this were this way.....and that was that way...."
Yes, I'm that shallow and that discontent and that, well, sinful. I like to pretend that I'm all wise and have learned, but that doesn't take away the fact that God, in His mercy, saved me from myself.
Desire. What exactly does that mean? God gives you the desires of your heart. Okay, but my heart is pretty nasty.
It envies. It covets. It judges. I wish it didn't. I wish I was perfect.
Therein lies the problem. Good thing I have a Savior.
This devotion recently showed up in my inbox at precisely the same moment I was banging pots and pans around as I unloaded the dishwasher. Then I began ungracefully dropping silverware in my silverware drawer because my perfectly planned plans had been thwarted by life as it happens. What I love about this devotion is the promise and guarantee of failure and loneliness. Effects of the fall are part of our world no matter what plans we make.
Well, at least that takes the pressure off.....
From John Eldredge:
The Promises of God
"I could do that better....."
"If I just could.....maybe if I did this.....what if this were this way.....and that was that way...."
Yes, I'm that shallow and that discontent and that, well, sinful. I like to pretend that I'm all wise and have learned, but that doesn't take away the fact that God, in His mercy, saved me from myself.
Desire. What exactly does that mean? God gives you the desires of your heart. Okay, but my heart is pretty nasty.
It envies. It covets. It judges. I wish it didn't. I wish I was perfect.
Therein lies the problem. Good thing I have a Savior.
This devotion recently showed up in my inbox at precisely the same moment I was banging pots and pans around as I unloaded the dishwasher. Then I began ungracefully dropping silverware in my silverware drawer because my perfectly planned plans had been thwarted by life as it happens. What I love about this devotion is the promise and guarantee of failure and loneliness. Effects of the fall are part of our world no matter what plans we make.
Well, at least that takes the pressure off.....
From John Eldredge:
The Promises of God
God promises every man futility and failure; he guarantees every woman relational heartache and loneliness. We spend most of our waking hours attempting to end-run the curse. We will fight this truth with all we've got. Sure, other people suffer defeat. Other people face loneliness. But not me. I can beat the odds. We see the neighbor's kids go off the deep end, and we make a mental note: They didn't pray for their kids every day. And we make praying for our kids every day part of our plan. It doesn't have to happen to us. We watch a colleague suffer a financial setback, and we make another note: He was always a little lax with his money. We set up a rigid budget and stick to it.
Isn't there something defensive that rises up in you at the idea that you cannot make life work out? Isn't there something just a little bit stubborn, an inner voice that says, I can do it? Thus Pascal writes,
All men seek happiness. This is without exception. Whatever different means they employ, they all tend to this end . . . This is the motive of every action of every man. But example teaches us little. No resemblance is ever so perfect that there is not some slight difference, and hence we expect that our hope will not be deceived on this occasion as before. And thus, while the present never satisfies us, experience dupes us and from misfortune to misfortune leads us to death. (Pensees)
It can't be done. No matter how hard we try, no matter how clever our plan, we cannot arrange for the life we desire. Set the book down for a moment and ask yourself this question: Will life ever be what I so deeply want it to be, in a way that cannot be lost? This is the second lesson we must learn, and in many ways the hardest to accept. We must have life; we cannot arrange for it.
Isn't there something defensive that rises up in you at the idea that you cannot make life work out? Isn't there something just a little bit stubborn, an inner voice that says, I can do it? Thus Pascal writes,
All men seek happiness. This is without exception. Whatever different means they employ, they all tend to this end . . . This is the motive of every action of every man. But example teaches us little. No resemblance is ever so perfect that there is not some slight difference, and hence we expect that our hope will not be deceived on this occasion as before. And thus, while the present never satisfies us, experience dupes us and from misfortune to misfortune leads us to death. (Pensees)
It can't be done. No matter how hard we try, no matter how clever our plan, we cannot arrange for the life we desire. Set the book down for a moment and ask yourself this question: Will life ever be what I so deeply want it to be, in a way that cannot be lost? This is the second lesson we must learn, and in many ways the hardest to accept. We must have life; we cannot arrange for it.
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