When I opened the front door last week I screamed—not once, but twice, loud enough for little people to come running from thither and yon. I expected to retrieve a package from the porch, but instead, a man stood just inside our storm door. Nope, it wasn’t the UPS guy or a stranger trying to steal a kiss under the mistletoe. The “mystery man” was Crusader, home for Christmas break. So, my first scream was abject terror; the second…well, more terror, then happy realization. (I do need to work on that fight/flight/fright thing.)
Now, it was my understanding that Crusader was driving in later that evening with a friend. In fact, I had just texted him about his arrival time, and I was rushing around killing the fatted calf, stuffing things under sofas and into closets to make the house presentable, and worrying and praying all the while about wet roads, sleepy drivers, and the accident statistics Songbird had just shared with me about teens driving with friends. But all that fretting and scurrying was for naught, because Hubby had made different plans. Without my knowing—or worrying—he’d arranged for Crusader to fly home, so he showed up about eight hours earlier than I’d expected.
The expected…
God is and does so much more than what I can expect, hope, think, or imagine, yet I continue trying to restrict Him to that box. I attach so much cause-and-effect power to my prayers: if I don’t talk to God about it, either something bad will happen or nothing good will. But really, my prayers aren’t like regularly scheduled oil changes; they’re not preventative maintenance. They’re not deadbolts either, keeping out problems, struggles, and pain and keeping in blessings, success, and safety. Before I can even think to bend my creaky knees to pray, God just…is and does and moves, working on my behalf. (Romans 8:26) My prayers waft up as sweet-smelling incense to God; they’re not tools I wield to get His attention, approval, and assistance.
Unmerited and unimaginable…Such is His constant loving presence, unmerited, but surely expected. Five new gray hairs sprouted when I opened the door that morning, but when Crusader got home by the time I’d texted “Be safe,” God reminded me (yet again) that He’s got this thing, my life. If I only open wide the door and open the gift that is Jesus, so much more awaits me on the other side. And I should expect nothing less.
“Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us,…” Ephesians 3:20
