Yesterday’s mail brought yet another whopping medical bill I can’t pay. I owe more money to credit cards, Daniel B. and various medical facilities than I make in a year. It’s my version of the deep and horrible pit David wrote about. It’s hard to remain positive when I can’t see where the money’s coming from. A couple years ago I had some ideas about trying to break into a freelancer’s life: it would work as a part-time gig and allow me to keep a hand in writing. I can’t even remember what bumped the idea out of my head or distracted me from it. I’m sure life roared somehow. It was probably just that I work at Pepsi and the hours during the summer are too long to do anything but fantasize about working elsewhere.
Anyway I got out of the shower yesterday afternoon and took Jessica’s hand and we went up to the Cave and prayed. It’s been awhile since we prayed together and I hate feeling like personal crisis or freakout is the only thing that brings it out of us, but it is what it is. God created us and called us, He’s the Author and the Finisher of our faith, and when He begins a good work He is faithful to perform and complete the thing. So I basically just wanted to affirm my trust in Him in Jessica’s hearing. I pray daily, pretty much, calling out to God and searching for Him in dark places; but sometimes people need to hear us pray to get a glimpse into what’s in our hearts and to share in the process. In spite of my shortcomings and sins, in spite of my wholesale bulk confusion about life and church and personal calling and God Himself, I trust that He is sovereign and makes no mistakes and I am open to whatever He wills. I just need direction about what that Will is, and what I should be doing to be yoked with it.
I was thinking awhile back about Peter’s words after the Resurrection. After all the shock and blood and death and denial and personal failure and seeing the risen Jesus he said “I’m going fishin’.” Simple. I used to look down on Peter for that, as if he were returning to a life that Jesus had forever called him away from, but he was just doing what made sense, what he knew, what was familiar. He was grieved. But Jesus met him where he was.
So I’m at this place in life where I don’t have any clear direction or obvious goal except survival, and I’ve been searching for the government of the Lord, yet without any clarification. My life is a fog and the breath of God could whoosh it away in one moment, bringing clarity and revelation. I want to be guided, I seek the Hand and Voice. But until it comes I don’t know what else to do except try my best to use the talents He’s given me to make something happen. Why would God give men dreams and talents without also giving them the design and plan to use those things to His glory? Bezalel must have practiced and honed his skills as an artisan on many projects before God gave Him the task of building the Tabernacle, the Ark, the implements and utensils.
I want to be a Bezalel who crafts words.