Recently I stumbled upon a question that stopped me in my tracks:
“When is it time to stop calculating risk and rewards, and just do what you know is right?”
This question sounds like such an easy solution to all of the world’s problems, doesn’t it? If we apply this simple formula at each bend in the road, wouldn’t we be assured of living a life full of the “right decisions”? The problem though is God. His right is not always our right. His answer is not always so simple. His plan is full of our wrong decisions, catastrophic mess-ups, and generation-begetting sins.
Don’t believe me? Crack open that Bible you’ve got sitting on the bookshelf and count how many blessings came out of man’s wrong decisions. How many promises God made turning our mistakes into His glory & His kingdom’s gain. How many Biblical heroes turned left instead of right at the fork in the road. Read through the genealogy of Jesus & think about each person mentioned & the life they led – wrongs and all!
Resting in His providence is sometimes better than doing what you know is right, especially when the right thing isn’t so obvious. I’m not excusing sin. I’m not encouraging you to falsely rely on grace as a ticket to live however you want. I’m just saying that maybe the better question to ask ourselves is:
“When is it time to stop calculating risk and rewards, and just do what the Lord is calling you to?”
Because sometimes He’s calling me to silence when I think words are necessary, to be still when I want to jump into action, to rest when I want to scream, to stay when I want to go. And sometimes He’s calling me to speak when words are sure to fail, to plunge when I can’t see the landing, to race when I’m too weary, to go where the footing is unsure.
He’s a God of consistent inconsistencies. He’s a God who revels in our dumbfounded confessions of “only You”. He delights in our weakness and is made strong in our failings. He is faithful. He is just. And He confuses the hell out of me.
This God of mine is unrelenting. He nags and tugs and stirs and breaks. And never when I want Him to. He is silent and still and quiet and benign. And always when I need Him. Yet into the stillness I groan, “Your will be done” as He undoes me, and into the chaos I cry, “Send me!” while He lies in wait. He is good. And I am His. He has hemmed me in. And with every intake, I’ll breathe life into His plan and surrender my own to His will.
Because risks, rewards, and all; this is where I want to be.