"I count myself one of the number of those who write as they learn and learn as they write." ~St. Augustine

Thursday, February 7, 2019

Today. Sit down and eat.

It just jumped out at me.  She said it, really, just in passing.  Smack dab in the middle of another story she said it.  And, in that moment, it was as if from the computer Skype screen it jumped out and snatched my heart.  

There are those moments.  They are often small, really.  Small, yes, but not insignificant. I think they are profound moments to be alert to---watch for and be awake.  

It was just in passing.  It rolled off her tongue.  What is He inviting you to today?  she said.  

What. ... His. ...Invitation.  ...You. ...Today.  

Today.  Now.  

Recently a few friends have shared with me the pain and suffering of the dark, grey hues of an unclear future.  These friends look ahead and don't know what to do.  All in remarkably different situations and circumstances. All are uneasy, in the least.   Some are truly panicked. All deeply afraid and even angry.  What was/is God doing?  What is coming?  What am I supposed to do?  I don't know what to do?  It makes no sense.  There is no path forward.  I have heard these questions and statements spoken over and over again.  I have been troubled with them, holding their pain, and praying for each one.  Today, I was reminded me that in each case the worries are about tomorrow---all about the future. 

The future.  Not today.  

Psychological studies say that we spend at least 75% of our time thinking about the future--- be it next week, next month, or ten years from now.  And, other statistical analytical studies show that 95% of what we think about (that 75 % of the time) never comes true... or never even shows up as a reality.  

Tomorrow.   ...or even tomorrow's tomorrow!  

What about the now, Stephanie? What is He inviting you to today? 

The question 'what am I supposed to do?'  ...when asked about the now... is usually, and generally, not that difficult.  What am I supposed to do now?  Well... now ...I need to take a shower, or clean this pile of laundry, or answer that email, or make some dinner, or go to bed.  

It is the future that trips us up.  It is the future that can trip me up.  What is around the corner?  What do I need to prepare myself for?  Or, what will happen if...?  or What am I supposed to do?  

I am struck that regardless of where I am on the journey; whether in the dark valley or the green pastures (Psalm 23), it is very clear what I am supposed to do in the now.   God tells me.  If it's the valley... I am to sit and feast at the table.  Sit down, eat and receive.  

His Word.  His Presence.  God's very self is the food I need as I 'walk' in the valley of the shadow of death.  Let Him pour over me His oil, Himself.   This is the invitation for today... in this dark valley. 

If I find myself in the green pastures...  what am I to do?  Lie down.  Follow.  Rest.  Enjoy.  Be refreshed.  Again, pretty clear what I am to do today.  

As over simplistic, over used, misused, and even trite as it may sound or feel as I type these words on a page: "Do not worry about tomorrow" ... these words feel utterly essential for my heart today.  

For my friends.  For me.

I want to look for His invitation to sit down and eat.  Today.  Or, to wade in the water, rest and lie down.  Can I just get on with it and fix dinner, or write that email, or fold that laundry while feasting on Him?  Can I simply do what I need to do today, and let His love and goodness follow and surround me?  

Lord, what do You have for me today?