For God is not a God of disorder, but of peace. I Corinthians 14:33 NIVI’ve felt God’s leading, and joined the new writers’ guild. I’m excited, eager to get to work on my novel. I’m surfing the crests of the waves, jotting notes as I cook breakfast and gather my necessaries to tote up to my neat creative solitude cottage.
But first, fill the wheelbarrow with firewood so my husband can roll it down to the porch. Finished, I grab my bag and hurry in to tell him I’ll be incommunicado.
“Did you leave the gloves with the wheelbarrow?”
No—but the gloves are nowhere to be found, and my peaceful excitement has also vanished.
Clutter.My old eyes can’t see what’s in front of my nose if there are too many things to try to focus on.
My surfboard has crashed into a pair of work gloves and been upended. And, yeah, I know how small they are.
Sometimes it’s like I, lonely survivor, have been called to walk to Jesus on the water. But the waves are not only storm-tossed, they’re filled with flotsam—there’s far too little jetsam at our house—and every step threatens to trip me face-first into the waves and under.
Fruitless search eating up more minutes and more peace.
Whatever. There are other gloves, and I’m not going to waste any more of my morning on this. I grabbed my bag and marched off to the literary wars, praying that I could recover my sanity before clock-in time.
Avi, hear my cry for help across the waves. Kids want to be like their Daddy, and I want to be like You—but You are a God of order, and I have a long, long way to go. If we can’t have order in our home here, please give me order and peace in my mind and my heart. Show me a safe path through the waves, and when I cannot walk on water, please carry me. In Your holy name, Amen.