"This is crazy, right?"
This is the sentence that has come out of my mouth at least twenty three times this weekend. I deliver my dramatic saga and my big plans, my impossible plans to innocent bystanders and then practically beg them to commit me to an insane asylum because I'm talking madness.
When I was a kid, I used to stand in SuperChurch and sing an old song.
"My God is so big, so strong, and so mighty; there's nothing that He cannot do."
And then I stopped being a kid.
My prayers started having addendums.
My prayers started having exclusions.
"Lord, you are an omnipotent God, but...."
"Lord, I know that you did this for that person but I...."
I have become a slave to "but".
I enjoy my logic.
I enjoy the fact that I seek to know all the aspects of what it is I am doing before I jump.
I was always THAT kid. The kid who would stand on the edge of the diving board, while everyone chanted, "JUMP!" behind me, waiting for me to decide that this calculated risk was indeed worth the drop.
I don't like to jump.
I don't like to make rash decisions.
So what do I do when God practically shouts at me to do just that?
What do I do when God bursts into my comfort zone and starts demolishing walls like He owns the place?
Because he does own the place.
What do I do when God tells me to forget everything that makes good and perfect sense and listen to Him?
What do I do when God tells me to sell all of my preconcieved ideas and notions and fears and just...follow...Him?
Because God...that's just so...big.
My God is so big. So strong. And so mighty. There's nothing that He cannot do.
I am not an exception.
I am His child and He promised me that He would never leave me or forsake me.
He promised me that His word would not return void.
And He promised me that He had plans for me. Plans to give me a hope and a future.
My Father wants only good gifts for His children.
So why do I think He won't do good by me?
Because it's big.
I am literally standing in front of the Almighty God that encompasses the whole of the universe and telling him that my problem is big.
Too big for Him.
And the perspective drowns me.
The perspective that I am weeping about a raindrop in a great ocean. About a grain of sand on a vast beach.
That I am telling God that I think that His perfect ways are not enough for me and my problem's bigness.
And I am humbled.
I am humbled at God's grace and my foolishness and I fall to my knees because I cannot stand before the one that is truly Big.
So He picks me up and takes my problem in His hands. And He asks me, "Is that all?"
And I tell him yes, sheepishly though, because I realize now how completely ridiculous it all is.
And He smiles at me and puts me down on the path where He wants me and He points towards the horizon where my future and all the things He has made from me stand.
And they are big.