I recently saw on Facebook a quote that said something like, “if we’re taking down the statues depicting the Civil War, why don’t we also take down all the mosques in our country?”
I thought, well that’s a really good question. Now, I’m not commenting here on whether or not to remove the statues, but it got me to thinking in general, that it seems we Americans have been so concerned with political correctness that we seem desperate to throw away who we are and give away the blessings we have in this country in order to please everyone. We seem to no longer know, or care, who we are, where we came from, who our recent – or ancient – ancestors were and what they taught us about right and wrong. And, more importantly, we’ve forgotten to Whom we belong. This has led us into a floundering confusion. Are we a girl or a boy? An animal, vegetable or mineral?
This reminds me of Esau… let’s see, what shall I choose today? Birthright or bowl of stew..?
We’ve forgotten our identity, and when we toss out our identity, what goes with it are the blessings God intends for us to walk in. For our pleasure and for His.
I, myself, have done that. Over the years, I’ve struggled to keep a firm grasp on who I was, where I came from and to whom I belonged. I was weak, flowing with every wind of opinion from those who told me how I should live, what I should do, how I should think, what my desires should and shouldn’t be.
How foolish! Yet, I didn’t know any better. I thought I was doing it right, but my head swam in the murky clamor of so many instructions from the outside that I couldn’t hear His voice of mercy and blessing speaking to my heart on the inside.
A burden of unbelief settled firmly around my shoulders like a dark shroud confusing and smothering my voice, opinions, strengths, dreams and desires. I continually sold my blessings, cheaply, for a pot of stew.
And then, what did I do? I got resentful and angry. God blesses everyone but me. He gives everyone else everything they want, but me. My theme song became “whatever Lola wants, Lola gets…” Everyone else got to be Lola, but never me! Poor me could only stew in the resentment of unfulfilled dreams, gazing from a distance at everyone else’s blessings. Poor resentful me stood before my Father and Maker of the Universe and beat my fists on His chest like a spoiled child!
Again, how foolish! And scary when I think about it now! I lived this way for years. Until one day recently, a curtain was drawn back and that burden of unbelief was removed from my spirit. My gracious, patient, understanding Father, Who knows everything about who I am and where I’ve come from, showed my poor heart how He had made a way for me, too. He reminded me – for He’d been trying to tell me for years – how, when I was born, He literally parted the atmosphere to make room for me. He lovingly asked me to stop giving away the blessings He was trying to shower me with. He exhorted me to start walking in belief, gave me permission to dream the dreams which had languished so long in my heart and gave me the strength to take steps to fulfill them.
I began to see that He created me on purpose for a purpose, that the dreams in my heart were put there for not only my pleasure, but for His also.
What? Could this be true? Yes!
My subsequent tears of repentance washed away unbelief. I was drawn closer to Him by His gentle exhortation. He in turn, kissed my tear-stained face, took both of my hands in His, helped me to stand, and is now leading me down a new and different path.
I can’t fully explain how He does these things. I just know something shifted in me and I am different. He is simply, miraculously, my good, good Father!