Not only am I old, tired and cynical but let’s add frustrated to my list of adjectives. Next time the world stops I’m getting off. It’s not Trump’s Tweets or the Not My President stuff that’s frustrating me, it’s me.
I woke up Tuesday morning with Matthew 6:10 on my lips, “Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven.” Does the church know that not only is the road to Hell paved with good intentions but so is the road to Heaven (which by the way is where I’m going because I know Jesus)?
I’m writing this towards the end of last week and I’m wondering where have all of my good intentions gone? I woke up ready to change the world for Jesus, what happened?
I heard a master gardener say, “Compost happens.” Man, does it happen. I’ve been eating one compost sandwich after another and now it’s Thursday and my accomplishments are not, well, not very Jesus like; no water to wine, no dead men walking, no crosses, no revolution started - no world change.
No doubt part of it’s me. God has told us that if we know the things to do and choose by volition not to do them that we fail, they are called the sins of omission (James 4:17).
I did some of that last week for sure, but can we talk? When we find ourselves feeding the pigs the only thing left to do is to go home (Luke 15:11-32).
The Father is there waiting, in fact, He’s looking for us to come home and tell Him we blew it (again). God’s not mad at you and He is not waiting to throw lightning bolts at you. He loves you - He’s not always cool with what you do but He likes you.
So go ahead, go home, tell Him you choked and see if He doesn’t put His arm around you and say, “Welcome home!” It’s called grace. He told me to tell you that.