Ever said to yourself, "Whew! I'm glad that's over!"? Well, I can tell you that neutral is far better than park. When you're stuck in neutral, at least you're contemplating a move. When you're stuck in park, you might as well cut the engine, get out of the car and forget about it. Last time I wrote on this blog, I was "stuck in neutral". Since then, I've received several emails of encouragement as well as the few comments (it was the holidays, I didn't expect much). Some long-time readers emailed just to see if I was okay. Others related to my plight.
Well, God got into the mix of it and I can tell you that He will fix a transmission problem when you get all caught up in yourself and what you should do with life. He'll clean off your cables, and discharge mechanisms of discouragement and apathy with a flick of a switch--especially when a group of His children get together and start praying for you.
I can't even begin to share how elated I am to be sitting in front of this monitor screen right now! While I was "stuck in neutral", I contemplated how I'd shift to "Drive" and where I'd go when I shifted. Writing commitments. I'd let so many slide. Some commitments I'd made to people. Some I'd made to God. Those I make to people take a great deal of time and brain power. Those I make to God take surrender and yielding, and a oneness of fellowship and worship.
Also, I thought about my commitment to visit church members on our annual visitation to pray for their needs--to share the needs of our church for the coming year for which they could pray. How does a person with two missing sparkplugs pray with power for another? I wondered how God could use me at all, but come what may, I was going. Well, evidently, the Lord doesn't want just anybody to show up and pray for His people. He pulled my plugs and turned off the ignition.
Two days before the visitation, I got a mega-virus of volcanic proportions. This is the first day since Friday I've been able to sit up for more than ten minutes. And the second day I've been able to even venture to open my eyes.
As I lay beneath a pile of blankets and quilts, shivering in agonizing pain at even the least noise or movement, I thought about being "stuck in Neutral" and the commitment I was breaking as a result of the bug. I thought about what others would think. I thought about how useless I am. I thought about the force with which I'd been leveled. Each breath I drew pounded against the inside of my brain in throbs of pain. The throbbing was so intense, it seemed like it must be visible to anyone who looked at me. The least bit of light or sound was intolerable.
I adjusted my breathing to as slow and shallow as I could make it as my mind raced. Why am I thinking? Why can't my brain just idle for awhile? But it kept turning over and over the last few days specifically and the previous few months generally. Before the flu, I only had back pain and occasional allergy misery. Why couldn't I have just counted it all joy?
I spent these days praying for God's grace to open my eyes without pain. And when they opened, I wanted to see. I wanted to see Him again. I wanted to be blind to myself. I longed to read His Word. I needed Him. Finally, last night, when I woke at 3 a.m., I grabbed my Bible and opened it and read where it opened. "Behold, You have made my days [as short] as handbreadths and my lifetime is as nothing in Your sight. Truly every man at his best is merely a breath! Selah [pause and calmly think of that]!" Ps. 39:5.
"As short as handbreadths." I closed my eyes and thought about my nearly 22,000 handbreadths and how quickly they seem to have passed. I considered accomplishments and achievements--speeches, awards, publications, ministries. I found them lacking. I took comfort in times I'd simply sat and held a grieving mother's hand, wrote notes of encouragement, young wives struggling with marriages. I thought of visiting sick and recalled prayers of intercession. I thought of the youth I'd counseled, encouraged, complimented, loved and listened to. I understood how my lifetime could be "as nothing" in God's sight. The space of time in my life is so tiny in the overall scheme of His eternity. One stitch in billions. One molecule in an ocean. One gleam among the zillions in space. Even though "my lifetime is as nothing" in God's sight, He sent His only Son to die so I might live. And why?
To write a better post? To have the most readers? To fill another's void? To become the wisest theologian? To have the unbeatable debate skills? To be the finest mother? The greatest wife? No.
It's much more, yet so much less. It's so I might tell anyone who will listen, one simple Truth: Jesus is God's Son, born of a virgin, Who came to earth to die as the perfect sacrifice for our sin so that all who believe in Him will live eternally with Him.
"Truly every man at his best is merely a breath. Selah."
While I was parked, where have you been? selahV
