what time is it?

I just had a startling thought.  For months now, I've been lamenting the fact that my desire to write was in the wind.  But why?  Why.  Maybe because my mind has been so incredibly occupied with so many other things, there's been no room to wander.  When my thoughts roam, the writing tends to flow. 

These past few weeks, I've been forced to slow down.  Mentally, physically, emotionally.  This has not been an enjoyable time for me, and many complaints and whines have wandered about.  In my thoughts, to those around me, and yes, toward God.  "What about this?"  That's been my question for him.  Guess what ... WRONG QUESTION!  More importantly, wrong focus.  "What about this?" focuses on me, and on the "this." 

Right question:  "What do I think of You now?"  I think that what You say is true.  I think that You are faithful and merciful and gracious and your lovingkindness towards me is endless.  I think that You have a plan for me and that it is perfect.  So if I really believe that what I believe is really real ... then I'll let You handle the "this" and I won't worry at all.  And my walk will match my talk.  Yet I echo the cry of the unnamed father (Mark 9:24) as Jesus healed his son:  "Lord I believe!  Help me in my unbelief."

So I told you all that to tell you this:  As I've wandered through the wilderness, my thoughts have roamed and wandered also.  And out of all that, the wind has shifted and the words are flowing again.  I've missed it altogether - how often do I miss the BFO's in my life?  (BFO = Blinding Flash of the Obvious.)  I saw a little boy's letter to God that said, "Dear God, thanks for the baby brother.  But I prayed for a puppy."  I've been praying for the puppy, and God is trying to give me a baby!  (Ooh wouldn't that be nice, for real?)

So today, I give thanks for the time.  The time for my thoughts to roam and wander.  The time to really examine and consider anew the unfolding of God's grand plan for our rescue through Jesus' sacrifice on the cross and the miracle of the empty tomb.  The time to rest.  And yes, the time to write.

(P.S. The next time you hear me whine or complain about the "this," for I surely will, please ask me::  "What time is it?")