Tell Me A Story, Daddy

Tell me a story daddy! I hear that a lot at night. Both of my sons like me or their mommy to tell them a story as they lay down at night. I've told literally hundreds of stories over the years. Stories of knights chopping off the heads of two headed dragons. Stories of Jedi knights whippin up on the bad guys. Stories of little boys who grow up to be race car drivers, NBA superstars, fighter pilots, etc. Stories of giant bugs, or giant dinosaurs, or giant something else attacking cities and how two boys save everybody.

I don't mean to brag, but I think I'm pretty good at telling stories. At least, my two boys think so. It's crazy though when I don't tell the story just the way that want to hear it. Both of them will let me know in a hurry when I take the story in a direction that they don't agree with it. There have even been times when they've attempted to have me deviate so much from my original story that I just tell them to finish the story. Afterall, there is only so much compromise a story teller should have to make. Of course, they never want to do that, so onward I push, even though my creativity has been tampered with.

The truth is they want me to tell them a story, but most often they want the controlling rights to the story. They want the license to change it up, if in fact the storyline strays from the way they want it to go. As I sit here thinking about that, I really think our response to God is often the same way. As a believer, we come to God wanting Him to write our story. We truly want Him to be in charge and we want to follow His direction for our life. At least until that story goes a direction we don't want it to go. We think to ourselves certainly, this can't be God taking us down this road. He would never tell the story this way, and if He does then we want a re-write. We want to take back some control as to how the story should go.

It's as if we sing the song, "I Surrender All," but we sing it with a disclaimer at the bottom of the page that says until we get uncomfortable, or don't agree with the storyline. The bottom line is we want to be in control. We want everything to go the way we want it to go and when it doesn't, it is so easy for us to get all bent out of shape. We pray prayers that often try to manipulate God to make everything go our way, rather than praying the kind of prayer that Jesus prays in the Garden of Gethsemane. You know that one right? "Not my will, but Yours (God) be done."

Ouch, that even hurt writing it. It's the truth though and we all know it. If we truly want God to write our story, then we'll let Him write it. And when it takes a turn that we don't particularly like, we'll trust that He knows what He's doing. He truly is a masterful story teller, and the story He writes for us, has Him walking through each scene with us. Trust me, Hollywood can't write a better story than the one he has for us. Let's choose to allow Him to write our story and then just walk through the adventure with Him, trusting Him the whole way.

Tiny, Hot Pieces Of Metal

This week on the job, I had to drill some holes in a metal panel. No big deal except it was over my head. Still it wasn't all that big of a deal until the tiny, hot pieces of metal started falling on my flesh. Now I don't do a lot of manual labor type work, I'm more of an office guy, but I've used a drill many times over the course of my life. I just don't ever recall drilling into metal over my head. Of course I knew the friction of drilling caused heat, but I never imagined that those little tiny pieces of metal would be so hot. So, there I am, metal hitting my face, my hands, my arms and going down my shirt, each one of them a couple thousand degrees. Ok, maybe not quite that hot, but trust me, they were a bit hotter than a hot summer day in southeast Texas.

Even though it stung a bit when each one hit, I just kept the finger on the throttle because there were holes that had to be drilled. Sure, I could have stopped, but then the whole job would have come grinding to a stop. The tiny, hot pieces of metal weren't life threatening, they were just a nuisance. A part of the process. Without them, there's no way to get the job done.

Sounds a bit like how God works in our lives. There's a place God wants us to get, but getting there will require a little bit of friction. We'll have to open up ourselves and allow him to work on areas that will be a little uncomfortable. You know those areas in our character, or those habits, or those addictions that we really don't want anyone touching. Sure, it can be a little inconvenient, irritating, or even painful at times. Nobody likes it, but its all a part of the process. Sure, you can refuse to allow him to work, but that will only bring everything to a grinding halt. You'll spend your life never developing into the person that God desires for you to be. Oh, but when we yield ourselves to his "Holy Spirit drill", He begins to do an awesome work in our life. Those parts of us that don't belong, he chips them away. And slowly but surely we become a little more like him, developing into the man or woman he designed us to be.

Yes, I survived those tiny, hot pieces of metal and with those holes drilled we became a step closer to the job getting done. Trust me, you'll survive the working of the Holy Spirit in your life and with each thing he does, He'll be a step closer to getting the job done.