It feels like my complaints are justified at times. My "rights" are trampled and I want. I need. But Paul says to do all things without complaining. Which I am certain implies that we take all things without complaining. Hmm.
I read chapter seven of Ann's book the other night and she called me out. She set me straight with one heavy word written in such poetic beauty. Blasphemer. Blasphemer? Me?
If God is sovereign, which He is. If He relentlessly loves His own, which He does. If nothing can enter my day apart from His will, which it can't. Then complaining reveals my unbelief. I don't believe that He is giving me good gifts. And I blaspheme His name.
That thought overwhelms me a bit. I need to sit down.
Choosing to see His good even in the mess will be the place of victory. Choosing to search out the gift from His hands of love leads to contentment's waters from which joy erupts.
Easier said than done.
We are human. We feel and respond. I feel and respond. I overreact to my kids. I mumble under my breath. I hold the moment in my hands and scrutinize, criticizing Him with my frown. But He gives good gifts.
Oh to see as He sees. To bless Him with thankful lips, even in the hard. Especially in the hard.
Bringing it home...
Does this thought overwhelm you like it did me? What are you thinking?
How do we do this on Monday or Tuesday? How do we choose to thank instead of complain, when the messy is so obvious?
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