Wednesday, September
20, 2017
Over the
last two months Elizabeth and I have had some extended conversations in our
home about the healing process, and what God might be up to in our lives. Well,
by conversation you do know that means my bride is the one holding up most of
the spoken stuff, and she then valiantly tries to understand my hoarse whispering. (I am now known in Brownworth circles as he who is the Hoarse Whisperer. There are hand signals, darting eyes,
interpretive body language, and plenty of Russell’s handwriting to
decipher. It’s becoming an art
form.
Here is the
punchline to this past Sunday’s episode:
Me (whispering,
eyes darting heavenward): I just don’t have a clue where this will all
lead.
She (eyes
trying not to roll as she gets up from the table to switch the laundry): Well,
did you ever think He’s teaching you patience?
Me: (blank
half-minute stare off into space, then…) I
just wish He’d get on with it!
There is a
metaphor in Wilson, the radiation mask,
for patience. Every day when they fastened
me to the table with Wilson’s clips, I was not privy to what kind of a session
it would be – long, complete with new CT images, or shorter variety of ZAP, sizzle, c’mon
preacher, up you go – see ya tomorrow! It was my job to be silent and patient!
But short session
or long, every day I felt like I was eleven again, sitting in the back seat of
Dad’s ’48 Ford: Are we there yet?
Patience is
not one of those spiritual gifts I’ve yet mastered. I’m more like our Shih Tzu, Wellie the Wonder
Dog; if you want to bathe, brush, give heartworm pills, or check what’s under
that mop of hair, well you’d better be ready to do battle; that little man won’t
sit still for anyone! I posted a short
video last week (See Wellie’s
Miracle here) that shows
Gracie, our other mutt, giving Wellie a little grooming session; she had to sit
on him to keep him still!
I guess I’m
a little too much like Wellie, spiritually-speaking. I want everything all laid-out
beforehand. I don’t like my plans being
changed, no surprises please. In short,
most of the time I am not eleven years old in the back seat of Dad’s Ford, I’m
more like six, and squirming out of my mother’s reach because I didn’t want her to zip up my jacket – I’ll do it myself!!!
Perhaps
impatience isn’t the best word; maybe the word is will. Perhaps the
trouble with waiting for someone, anyone, and particularly an unseen ONE to unfold a new
plan is that I would much rather my
will than thy will
be done.
And so, the
radiation table and Wilson’s ever-loving embrace to pin me to that table have
been bad and good. It’s been bad for the
tumor and my sense of being in control.
It’s been good that the impatient preacher had nowhere to go, no options,
and that the mask mashed his face so securely to the table that, even if he had
a voice, there was no way to open his mouth…
That’s the
only way to teach some
people the value of patience.
For You Today
Did you
ever consider God may really BE getting-on
with it when you have to wait?
And the
fact that He is working on teaching you patience is the one thing lacking in YOU being able to get-on with
learning to bend your will to His?
You chew on
that as you hit the Rocky Road…have a blessed day!
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