My God is Not a Bully

I've actually had a ton of things brewing in my mind and heart as of late, just not any time to put these things on paper. But for the sake of time, and because I have a 13 hour day tomorrow, I'll make a half-hearted attempt at being brief.

I guess the biggest issue I've had to come to wrap my mind around lately is that the past is gone. I know a lot of people realize this and it might seem a somewhat non-issue to them, but to me, especially as of late, it seems like a brand new revelation. I came into this internship with the thought that I would grow a little, learn a little and maybe grow a beard and in 10 months I would just come back to find my neatly planned life waiting for me. Like a song that you just put on pause and come back to when you're ready to finish it. The more I go through my hours, days and weeks, the more I realize this is just not so. Not so at all. In fact, I think this is why Paul said to forget the past and reach for what was ahead. As I try to hold on to the mementos of my past life, I realize more and more that in 10 months, I'll come out of my self-induced monastery and life will have continued on without me. Friends will be married, friends will be promoted, and some friends will be gone. I won't lie and pretend like this doesn't scare me at all, because it does. But I'm learning to become more and more comfortable with the idea—or at least to tolerate it a little bit more. Baby steps. Kinda like how you tolerate the idea that you need a vaccine, even if it comes in the form of a cold, piercing, jagged piece of steel. Seems the more mature you become, the less and less the idea of a needle ought to scare you. Sometimes I wish my maturity would catch up to my logic.

But something is different. In me. The more and more I fret about it, the more my logic leads me to realize that I really only have two options: live in nostalgia and longing for what is gone or learn to develop a genuine, palatable excitement for what the next 9 months will bring and tackle it like a short chubby kid trying to tackle the varsity running back—probably very clumsily and definitely with some pain, but a heck of a story to tell at some point down the road.

I realize a lot of what I wished for three months ago may never be there again. And I don't want to be bitter about. I don't want to be sad about it. I don't want to cry about it. Even though all these emotions take their turns at attempting to beat down my heart, I know God has something amazing in store somewhere down the road. As one of my intern buddies pointed out today—my God is not a bully. If he allows something to slip out of my life, I can only believe he's also creating room for something more amazing to make its way in. So I thank my God that he's not a bully that takes my lunch money and laughs in my face. He's not a forgetful God that he would overlook me. And he's not a man that he should lie to me. When he promises me that when I delight myself in him he'll give me the desires of my heart, I know he'll deliver. When he promises me provision, I know he'll send it. When he promises me an easier load to carry when I yoke myself to him, I know he'll make good. And when he promises me he'll never leave me, he'll never forget about me—I know he'll show up. Why? Because my God is not a bully that he would promise me the stars and the sand and then decide it was all a mean, cruel joke. So come with me. Pray with me. Cheer with me. Praise with me. And watch my God put on a show.